J4.<L5'.'oS, 


Srom  t^e  feiBrari^  of 
(f)rofe00or  ^amuef  (gtiffer 

in  (pernor)?  of 
3ubge  ^amuef  (giiffer  (grecfttnnbge 

^amuef  (gtiffer  QBrecftinribge  feon^ 

fo  f^e  feifirarg  of 

gprinceton  S^eofogicaf  ^eminarjp 


x 


THE 


WORKS 


OF 


THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE 


EDMUND  BURKE. 


FIRST  AMERICAN, 
FROM  THE  LAST  LONDON  EDITION. 


VOL.    L 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  WEST,  75,  CORNHILL, 

AND 

O.  C.  GREENLEAF,  3,  COURT  STREET. 


1806. 


David  Carlisle,  Printer,  No.  5,  Court  Street. 


CONTENTS. 

VOL.    I. 

PAGE 

Advertisement  to  the  Reader        -        -        t  v 

Advertisement  to  the  present  Edition        -        -         xv 

A  Vindication  of  Natural  Society :  or,  a  View  of 
the  Miseries  and  Evils  arising  to  Mankind 
from  every  Species  of  Artificial  Society        -  .1 

A  Philosophical  Inquiry  into  the  Origin  of  our  Ideas 
of  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful ;  with  an  Intro- 
ductory Discourse  concerning  Taste         -         -        53 

A  Short  account  of  a  late  Short  Administration        211 

Observations  on  a  late  Publication,  intituled.  The 
Present  State  of  the  Nation        -        -        -       217 

Thoughts  on  the  Cause  of  the  Present  Discontents      349 

Speech  on  American  Taxation        •>        -        -       431 


ADVERTISEMENT 

TO  THE  READER. 

1  HE  late  Mr.  Burke,  from  a  principle 
of  unaffected  humility,  which  they,  who  were  the  most 
intimately  acquainted  with  his  character,  best  know 
to  have  been  in  his  estimation  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant moral  duties,  never  himself  made  any  collection 
of  the  various  publications  with  which,  during  a  peri- 
od of  forty  years,  he  adorned  and  enriched  the  Htera- 
ture  of  this  country.  When,  however,  the  rapid  and 
unexampled  demand  for  his  "  Reflexions  on  the 
Revolution  of  France,*'  had  unequivocally  testified 
his  celebrity  as  a  writer,  some  of  his  friends  so  far 
prevailed  upon  him,  that  he  permitted  them  to  put 
forth  a  regular  edition  of  his  works.  Accordingly, 
three  volumes  in  quarto  appeared  under  that  title  in 
1792,  printed  for  the  late  Mr.  Dodsley.  That  edition, 
therefore,  has  been  made  the  foundation  of  the  pref- 
ent,  for  which  a  form  has  been  chosen  better  adapt- 
ed to  publick  convenience.  Such  errours  of  the  press 
as  have  been  discovered  in  it  are  here  rectified  :  in 
other  respects  it  is  faithfully  followed,  except  that  in 
one  instance,  an  accident  of  little  moment  has  occa- 
sioned a  slight  deviation  from  the  strict  chronological 
arrangement  ;  and  that  on  the  other  hand,  a  speech 
of  conspicuous  excellence,  on  his  declining  the  poll  at 
Bristol,  in  1780,  is  here,  for  the  first  time,  inserted  in 
its  proper  place. 


vi  ^  ADVERTISEMENT. 

As  the  activity  of  the  Author's  mind,  and  the  lively 
interest  which  he  took  in  the  welfare  of  his  country, 
ceased  only  with  his  life,  many  subsequent  produc- 
tions issued  from  his  pen,  which  were  received  in  a 
manner  corresponding  with  his  distinguished  reputa- 
tion. He  wrote  also  various  tracts,  of  a  less  popular 
description,  which  he  designed  for  private  circulation, 
in  quarters  where  he  supposed  they  might  produce 
most  benefit  to  the  community  ;  but  which,  with  some 
other  papers,  have  been  printed  since  his  death,  from 
copies  which  he  left  behind  him  fairly  transcribed, 
and  most  of  them  corrected  as  for  the  press.  All 
these,  now  first  collected  together,  form  the  contents 
of  the  last  volume.  They  are  disposed  in  chro- 
nological order,  with  the  exception  of  the  Preface  to 
Brissot's  Address,  which  having  appeared  in  the  Au- 
thor's life-time,  and  from  delicacy  not  being  avowed 
by  him,  did  not  come  within  the  plan  of  this  edition, 
but  has  been  placed  at  the  end  of  the  last  volume,  on 
its  being  found  deficient  in  just  bulk. 

The  several  posthumous  publications,  as  they  from 
time  to  time  made  their  appearance,  were  accompa- 
nied by  appropriate  prefaces.  These,  however,  as 
they  were  principally  intended  for  temporary  purpos- 
es, have  been  omitted.  Some  few  explanations  only, 
which  they  contained,  seem  here  to  be  necessary. 

The  "  Observations  on  the  Conduct  of  the  Minority 
"  in  the  Session  of  1793,"  had  been  written  and  sent 
by  Mr.  Burke  as  a  paper  entirely  and  strictly  confi- 
dential ;  but  it  crept  surreptitiously  into  the  world, 
through  the  fraud  and  treachery  of  the  man  whom  he 
had  employed  to  transcribe  it,  and,  as  usually  happens 
in  such  cases,  came  forth  in  a  very  mangled  state, 
under  a  false  title,  and  without  the  introductory  let- 
ter.    The  friends   of  the  Author,  without  waiting  to 


ADVERTISEMENT.  tii 

consult  him,  instantly  obtained  an  injunction  from  the 
Court  of  Chancery  to  stop  the  sale.  What  he  him- 
self felt,  on  receiving  intelligence  of  the  injury  done 
him  by  one,  from  whom  his  kindness  deserved  a  very 
different  return,  will  be  best  conveyed  in  his  own 
words.  The  following  is  an  extract  of  a  letter  to  a 
friend,  which  he  dictated  on  this  subject  from  a  sick 
bed. 

Batby  1 5th  Feb.  1797. 
**  My  dear  Laurence, 

"  ON  the  appearance  of  the  advertisement, 
all  newspapers,  and  all  letters  have  been  kept  back 
from  me  till  this  time.  Mrs.  Burke  opened  your's, 
and  finding  that  all  the  measures  in  the  power  of  Dr. 
King,  yourself,  and  Mr.  Woodford,  had  been  taken  to 
suppress  the  publication,  she  ventured  to  deliver  me 
the  letters  to-day,  which  were  read  to  me  in  my  bed, 
about  two  o'clock, 

*'  This  affair  does  vex  me ;  but  I  am  not  in  a  state 
of  health  at  present  to  be  deeply  vexed  at  any  thing. 
Whenever  this  matter  comes  into  discussion,  I  author- 
ize you  to  contradict  the  infamous  reports,  which  (I 
ixa  informed)  have  been  given  out ;  that  this  paper 
had  been  circulated  through  the  Ministry,  and  was  in- 
tended gradually  to  slide  into  the  press.  To  the  best 
of  my  recollection,  I  never  had  a  clean  copy  of  it  but 
one,  which  is  now  in  my  possession  ;  I  never  com- 
municated that,  but  to  the  Duke  of  Portland,  from 
whom  I  had  it  back  again.  But  the  Duke  will  set  this 
matter  to  rights,  if  in  reahty  there  were  two  copies, 
and  he  has  one.  I  never  shewed  it,  as  they  know,  to 
any  one  of  the  Ministry.  If  the  Duke  has  really  a 
copy,  I  believe  his  and  mine  are  the  only  ones  that  ex- 
ist, except  what  was  taken  by  fraud  from  loose  and 
incorrect  papers  by  S ,  to  whom  I  gave  the  letter 


viii  ADVERTISEMENT. 

to  copy.  As  soon  as  I  began  to  suspect  him  capable 
of  any  such  scandalous  breach  of  trust,  you  know  with 
what  anxiety  I  got  the  loose  papers  out  of  his  hands, 
not  having  reason  to  think  that  he  kept  any  other. 
Neither  do  I  believe  in  fact  (unless  he  meditated  this 
villainy  long  ago)  that  he  did  or  does  now  possess  any 
clean  copy.  I  never  communicated  that  paper  to  any 
one  out  of  the  very  small  circle  of  those  private  friends, 
from  whom  I  concealed  nothing. 

"  But  I  beg  you  and  my  friends  to  be  cautious  how 
you  let  it  be  understood,  that  I  disclaim  any  thing  but 
the  mere  act  and  intention  of  publication.  I  do  not 
retract  any  one  of  the  sentiments  contained  in  that 
Memorial,  which  was  and  is  my  justification,  address- 
ed to  the  friends,  for  whose  use  alone  I  intended  it. 
Had  I  designed  it  for  the  publick,  I  should  have  been 
more  exact  and  full.  It  was  written  in  a  tone  of  in- 
dignation, in  consequence  of  the  resolutions  of  the 
Whig  Club,  which  were  directly  pointed  against  my- 
self and  others,  and  occasioned  our  secession  from 
that  Club  ;  which  is  the  last  act  of  my  life  that  I  shall 
under  any  circumstances  repent.  Many  temperaments 
and  explanations  there  would  have  been,  if  I  had  ever 
had  a  notion  that  it  should  meet  the  publick  eye." 

In  the  mean  time  a  large  impression,  g^ounting, 
it  is  beheved,  to  three  thousand  copies,  hid  been  dis- 
persed over  the  country.  To  recall  these  was  impos- 
sible ;  to  have  expected  that  any  acknowledged  pro- 
duction of  Mr.  Burke,  full  of  matter  likely  to  inter- 
est the  future  historian,  could  remain  for  ever  in  ob- 
scurity, would  have  been  folly  ;  and  to  have  passed 
it  over  in  silent  neglect,  on  the  one  hand,  or,  on  the 
other,  to  have  then  made  any  considerable  changes  in 
it,  might  have  seemed  an  abandonment  of  the  princi- 
ples which  it  contained.     The  Author,  therefore,  dis- 


ADVERTISEMENT.  Jx 

covering  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  Introductory- 
letter,  he  had  not  in  fact  kept  any  clean  copy,  as  he 
had  supposed,  corrected  one  of  the  pamphlets  with 
his  own  hand.  From  this,  which  was  found  preserv- 
ed with  his  other  papers,  his  friends  afterwards  thought 
it  their  duty  to  give  an  authentick  edition. 

The  "  Thoughts  and  Details  on  Scarcity"  were  orig- 
inally presented  in  the  form  of  a  Memorial  to  Mr. 
Pitt.  The  Author  proposed  afterwards  to  recast  the 
same  matter  in  a  new  shape.  He  even  advertised  the 
intended  work  under  the  title  of  "  Letters  on  Rural 
CEconomicks,  addressed  to  Mr.  Arthur  Young  ;'*  but 
he  seems  to  have  finished  only  two  or  three  detached 
fragments  of  the  first  letter.  These  being  too  imper- 
fect to  be  printed  alone,  his  friends  inserted  them  in 
the  Memorial  where  they  seemed  best  to  cohere.  The 
Memorial  had  been  fairly  copied,  but  did  not  appear 
to  have  been  examined  or  corrected,  as  some  trifling 
errours  of  the  transcriber  were  perceptible  in  it.  The 
manuscript  of  the  fragments  was  a  rough  draft  from 
the  Author's  own  hand,  much  blotted  and  very  con- 
fused. 

The  "  Third  Letter  on  the  Proposals  for  Peace," 
was  in  its  progress  through  the  press  when  Mr.  Burke 
died.  About  one  half  of  it  was  actually  revised  in 
print  by  himself,  though  not  in  the  exact  order  of  the 
pages  as  they  now  stand.  He  enlarged  his  first  draft, 
and  separated  one  great  member  of  his  subject,  for 
the  purpose  of  introducing  some  other  matter  between* 
The  different  parcels  of  manuscript,  designed  to  inter- 
vene, were  discovered.  One  of  them  he  seemed  to 
have  gone  over  himself,  and  to  have  improved  and 
augmented.  The  other  (fortunately  the  smaller),  vvas 
much  more  imperfect,  just  as  it  was  taken  from  his 
mouth  by  dictation.     No  important  chan.^-e,  none  at 

Vol.  L  B 


X  ADVERTISEMENT. 

all  affecting  the  meaning  of  any  passage,  has  been 
made  in  either,  though  in  the  more  imperfect  parcel, 
some  latitude  of  discretion  in  subordinate  points  was 
necessarily  used. 

There  is,  however,  a  considerable  member,  for  the 
greater  part  of  which,  Mr/  Burke's  reputation  is  not 
responsible  :     this  is  the  inquiry  into  the  condition  of 
the  higher  classes.     The  summary  of  the  whole  top- 
ick  indeed,  nearly   as  it  stands,  was  found,  together 
with  a  marginal  reference  to  the  bankrupt-list,  in  his 
own  hand-writing  ;    and  the  actual  conclusion  of  the 
letter  was  dictated  by  him,  but  never  received  his  sub- 
sequent correction.     He  had  also  preserved,  as  mate- 
rials for  this    branch  of  the   subject,  some  scattered 
hints,  documents,  and  parts  of  a  correspondence  on 
the  state  of  the  country.     He  was,  however,  prevent- 
ed from  working  on  them,  by  the  want  of  some  au- 
thentick   and   official   information,  for  which   he  had 
been  long  anxiously  waiting,  in  order  to  ascertain,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  the  publick,  what  with  his  usual  sa- 
gacity he  had  fully  anticipated  from  his  own  personal 
observation,  to  his  own  private  conviction.     At  length 
the  reports  of  the  different  Committees,  which  had 
been  appointed  by  the  two  Houses  of  Parliament,  amp- 
ly furnished  him  with  evidence  for  this  purpose.    Ac- 
cordingly he  read  and  considered  them  with  attention  ; 
but  for  any  thing  beyond  this  the  season  was  now  past. 
The  Supreme  Disposer  of  all,  against  whose  inscruta- 
ble counsels  it  is  vain  as  well  as  impious  to  murmur, 
did  not  permit  him   to  enter  on  the  execution  of  the 
task  which  he  meditated.     It  was  resolved,  therefore, 
by  one  of  his  friends,  after  much  hesitation,  and  un- 
der a  very  painful  responsibility,  to  make  such  an  at- 
tempt  as  he  could   at  supplying  the  void  ;  especially 
because  the  insufficiency  of  our  resources  for  the  con- 


ADVERTISEMENT.  xi 

tinuance  of  the  war  was  understood  to  have  been  the 
principal  objection  urged  against  the  two  former  "  Let- 
ters on  the  Proposals  for  Peace."  In  performing  with 
reverential  diffidence  this  duty  of  friendship,  care  has 
been  taken  not  to  attribute  to  Mr.  Burke  any  sentiment 
which  is  not  most  explicitly  known,  from  repeated 
conversations,  and  from  much  correspondence,  to 
have  been  decidedly  entertained  by  that  illustrious 
man.  One  passage  of  nearly  three  pages,  containing 
a  censure  of  our  defensive  system,  is  borrowed  from 
a  private  letter,  which  he  began  to  dictate,  with  an  in- 
tention of  comprising  in  it  the  short  result  of  his  opin- 
ions, but  which  he  afterwards  abandoned,  when,  a  Ht- 
tle  time  before  his  death,  his  health  appeared  in  some 
degree  to  amend,  and  he  hoped  that  Providence  might 
have  spared  him  at  least  to  complete  the  larger  pub- 
lick  letter,  which  he  then  proposed  to  resume. 

In  the  preface  to  the  former  edition  of  this  letter,  a 
fourth  was  mentioned  as  being  in  possession  of  Mr. 
Burke's  friends.  It  was  in  fact  announced  by  the  Au- 
thor himself,  in  the  conclusion  of  the  second,  which  it 
was  then  designed  to  follow.  He  intended,  he  said, 
'*  to  proceed  next  on  the  question  of  the  facilities  pos- 
sessed by  the  French  Republick,yro;72  the  internal  state 
of  other  nations.^  and  particularly  of  this,  for  obtaining 
her  ends ;  and,  as  his  notions  were  controverted,  to 
take  notice  of  what,  in  that  way,  had  been  recom- 
mended to  him."  The  vehicle  which  he  had  chosen 
for  this  part  of  his  plan  was  an  answer  to  a  pamphlet 
which  was  supposed  to  come  from  high  authority,  and 
was  circulated  by  Ministers  with  great  industry,  at  the 
time  of  its  appearance  in  October  1795,  immediately 
previous  to  that  Session  of  Parlaiment  when  his  Ma- 
jesty for  the  first  time  declared,  that  the  appearance  of 
any  disposition  in  the  enemy  to  negotiate  for  general 


jj^ii  ADVERTISEMENT. 

peace,  should  not  fail  to  be  met  with  an  earnest  desire 
to  give  it  the  fullest  and  speediest  effect.  In  truth, 
the  answer,  which  is  full  of  spirit  and  vivacity,  was 
written  the  latter  end  of  the  same  year,  but  was  laid 
aside  when  the  question  assumed  a  more  serious  as- 
pect, from  the  commencement  of  an  actual  negotia- 
tion, which  gave  rise  to  the  series  of  printed  letters. 
Afterwards,  he  began  to  re-write  it,  with  a  view  of 
accommodating  it  to  his  new  purpose.  The  greater 
part,  however,  still  remained  in  its  original  state  ;  and 
several  heroes  of  the  Revolution,  who  are  there  cele- 
brated, having  in  the  interval  passed  off  the  publick 
stage,  a  greater  liberty  of  insertion  and  alteration  than 
his  friends  on  consideration  have  thought  allowable, 
would  be  necessary  to  adapt  it  to  that  place  in  the  se- 
ries for  which  it  was  ultimately  designed  by  the  Au- 
'.hor.  This  piece,  therefore,  addressed,  as  the  title 
originally  stood,  to  his  noble  friend.  Earl  Fitzwilliam, 
will  be  given  the  first  in  the  supplemental  volumes, 
which  will  be  hereafter  added  to  complete  this  edition 
of  the  Author's  works. 

The  tracts,  most  of  them  in  manuscript,  which  have 
been  already  selected  as  fit  for  this  purpose,  will  prob- 
ably furnish  four  or  five  volumes  more,  to  be  printed 
uniformly  with  this  edition.  The  principal  piece  is 
entitled  "  An  Essay  towards  an  Abridgment  of  the 
English  History  ;"  and  reaches  from  the  earliest 
period  down  to  the  conclusion  of  the  reign  of  King 
John.  It  is  written  with  much  depth  of  antiquarian 
research,  directed  by  the  mind  of  an  intelligent  states- 
man. This  alone,  as  far  as  can  be  conjectured,  will 
form  more  than  one  volume.  Another  entire  volume 
also,  at  least,  will  be  filled  with  his  letters  to  publick 
men  on  publick  affairs,  especially  those  of  France.  This 
supplement  will  be  sent  to  the  press  without  delay. 


ADVERTISEMENT.  xiii 

Mr.  Burke's  more  familiar  correspondence  will  be 
reserved,  as  authorities  to  accompany  a  narrative  of 
his  life,  which  will  conclude  the  whole.  The  period 
during  which  he  flourished  was  one  of  the  most  mem- 
orable of  our  annals.  It  comprehended  the  acqui- 
sition of  one  empire  in  the  east,  the  loss  of  another 
in  the  west,  and  the  total  subversion  of  the  ancient 
system  of  Europe  by  the  French  Revolution  ;  with 
all  which  events  the  history  of  his  life  is  necessarily 
and  intimately  connected  ;  as  indeed  it  also  is,  much 
more  than  is  generally  known,  with  the  state  of  liter- 
ature and  the  elegant  arts.  Such  a  subject  of  biogra- 
phy cannot  be  dismissed  with  a  slight  and  rapid  touch  ; 
nor  can  it  be  treated  in  a  manner  worthy  of  it,  from  the 
information,  however  authentick  and  extensive,  which 
the  industry  of  any  one  man  may  have  accumulated. 
Many  important  communications  have  been  received, 
but  some  materials,  which  relate  to  the  pursuits  of 
his  early  years,  and  which  are  known  to  be  in  exist- 
ence, have  been  hitherto  kept  back,  notwithstanding 
repeated  inquiries  and  applications.  It  is,  therefore, 
once  more  earnestly  requested,  that  all  persons  who 
call  themselves  the  friends  or  admirers  of  the  late  Ed- 
mund Burke,  will  have  the  goodness  to  transmit,  with- 
out delay,  any  notices  of  that,  or  of  any  other  kind, 
which  may  happen  to  be  in  their  possession,  or  within 
their  reach,  to  Messrs.  Rivingtons  ;  a  respect  and 
kindness  to  his  memory  which  will  be  thankfully  ac- 
knowledged by  those  friends  to  whom,  in  dying,  he 
committed  the  sacred  trust  of  his  reputation. 


ADVERTISEMENT 


TO    THE 


PRESENT  EDITION. 


A 


NEW  Edition  of  the  "Works  of  Mr.  Burke  hav- 
ing been  called  for  by  the  Publick,  the  opportunity  has  been 
taken  to  make  some  slight  changes,  it  is  hoped  for  the  better. 
A  different  distribution  of  the  contents,  while  it  has  made 
the  volumes,  more  nearly  equal  in  their  respective  bulk,  has, 
at  the  same  time,  been  fortunately  found  to  produce  a  more 
methodical  arrangement  of  the  whole.     The    first  volume, 
contains  those  literary  and  philosophical  works  by  which  Mr. 
Burke   was  known,  previous  to  the   commencement  of  his 
publick  life  as  a  statesman,  and    the  political  pieces  which 
were  written  by  him  between  the  time  of  his  first  becoming 
connected  with  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  and  his  being 
chosen  Member  for  Bristol.     In  the  second  are  comprehend- 
ed all  his  speeches  and  pamphlets    from  his  first  arrival  at 
Bristol,  as  a  candidate,  in  the  year  1774,  to  his  farewell  ad- 
dress from  the  hustings  of  that  city,  in  the  year  1780  ;  and 
also  what  he  himself  published    relative  to  the  affairs  of  In- 
dia.    The    remaining  two   comprize    his  works  since    the 
French   revolution,  with   the    exception    of  the  Letter  to 
Lord  Kenmare  on  the  Penal    Laws  against  Irish  Catholicks, 
which  was  probably  inserted  where  it  stands  from  its  relation 
to  the  subject  of  the  Letter  addressed  by  him,  at  a  later  pe- 
riod, to  Sir  Hercules  Langrishe.     With  the  same  exception, 
too,  strict  regard  has  been  paid  to  chronological  order,  which, 
in  the  last  edition,  was  in  some  instances  broken,   to   insert 
pieces  that  were  not  discovered  till    it  was  too   late  to  intro- 
duce them  in  their  proper  places. 

In  the  Appendix  to  the  Speech  on  the  Nabob  of  Arcot's 
Debts  the  references  were  found  to  be  confused,  and,  in  ma- 
ny places,  erroneous.     This  probably  had  arisen  from    the 


Xvi  ADVERTISEMENT. 

circumstance  that  a  larger  and  differently  constructed  Appen- 
dix seems  to  have  been  originally  designed  by  Mr.  Burke, 
which,  however,  he  afterwards  abridged  and  altered,  while 
the  speech  and  the  notes  upon  it  remained  as  they  were. 
The  text  and  the  documents  that  support  it  have  throughout 
been  accommodated  to  each  other. 

The  orthography  has  been  in  many  cases  altered,  and  an 
attempt  made  to  reduce   it  to  some  certain  standard.     The 
rule  laid  down  for  the  discharge  of  this  task  was,  that  when- 
ever Mr.  Burke  could  be  perceived  to  have  been  uniform  in 
his  mode  of  spelling,   that  was  considered  as  decisive  ;  but, 
where  he  varied,  (and  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  writing  by 
dictation,  and  leaving  to  others  the   superintendance   of  the 
press,  he  was  pecuHarly  liable  to  variations  of  this  sort)  the 
best  received  authorities  were  directed  to  be  followed.     The 
reader,  it  is  trusted,  will  find  this  object,  too  much  disregard- 
ed in  modern  books,  has  here  been  kept  in  view  throughout. 
The  quotations  which  are  interspersed  through  the  works  of 
Mr.   Burke,  and   wd:iich  were  frequently  made  by  him  from 
memory,   have    been   generally  compared  with  the  original 
authors.     Several  mistakes  in  printing,  of  one  word  for  an- 
other, by  which  the  sense  was  either  perverted  or  obscured, 
are  now  rectified.     Two  or  three  small  insertions  have  also 
been  made  from  a  quarto  copy  corrected  by  Mr.  Burke  him- 
self.    From  the  same  source  something  more  has  been  drawn 
in   the   shape   of  notes,  to  which  are  subscribed  his  initials. 
Of  this  number  is  the  explanation  of  that  celebrated  phrase, 
"  the  swinish  xiiultitude  :"    an  explanation   which  was   uni- 
formly  given    by  him  to  his  friends,  in  conversation  on  the 
subject.     But  another  note  will  probably  interest  the  reader 
still   more,  as  being  strongly  expressive  of  that  parental  af- 
fection which   formed  so  amiable  a  feature  in  the  character 
of  Mr.  Burke.     It  is  in  "  Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in 
France,"  Vol.  III.  where  he  points  out  a  considerable  passage  as 
having  been  supplied  by  his "  lost  son."     Several  other  parts, 
possibly  amounting  all  together  to  a  page  or  thereabout,  were 
indicated  in  the  same  manner  ;    but,  as  they  in  general  con- 
sist of  single  sentences,  and  as  the  meaning  of  the  mark  by 
which  they  were  distinguished  was  not  actually  expressed,  it 
ha^  not  been  thought  necessary  to  notice  them  particularly. 


VINDICATION 


OF 

NATURAL  SOCIETY: 

OR,    A    VIEW  OF 

THE  MISERIES  AND  EVILS  ARISING  TO  MANKIND 

FROM  EVERY   SPECIES  OF 

V 

ARTIFICIAL   SOCIETY. 

IN  A  LETTER   TO  LORD  ****. 

BY  A  LATE  NOBLE  WRITER. 

1756. 


Vol.  I. 


PREFACE. 


J3EF0RE  the  philosophical  works  of  Lord 
BoLiNGBROKE   had  appeared,  great   things  were  expected 
from  the  leisure  of  a  man,  who  from  the  splendid  scene  of 
action,  in  which  his  talents  had  enabled  him  to  make  so  con- 
spicuous a  figure,  had  retired  to  employ  those  talents  in  the 
investigation  of  truth.     Philosophy  began  to   congratulate 
herself  upon  such  a  proselyte  from  the  world   of  business, 
and  hoped  to  have  extended  her  power  under  the  auspices  of 
such  a  leader.     In  the  midst  of  these  pleasing  expectations, 
the  works  themselves  at  laft  appeared  in  full  body^  and  with 
great  pomp.     Those  who  searched  in  them  for  new  discov- 
eries in  the  mysteries  of  nature  ;  those  who  expected  some- 
thing which  might  explain  or  direct  the  operations  of  the 
mind  ;  those  who  hoped  to  see  morality  illustrated  and  en- 
forced ;  those  who  looked  for  new  helps  to  society  and  gov- 
ernment ;  those  who  desired  to  see  the  characters  and  pas- 
sions of  mankind  delineated  ;  in  short,  all  who  consider  such 
things  as  philosophy,  and  require  some  of  them  at  least,  in 
every  philosophical  work,    all    these  were  certainly   disap- 
pointed ;  they  found  the  landmarks  of  science  precisely  in 
their  former  places  :  and  they  thought  they  received  but  a 
poor  recompense  for  this  disappointment,    in  seeing  every 
mode  of  religion  attacked  in  a  lively  manner,  and  the  foun- 
dation of  every  virtue,  and  of  all  government,  sapped  with 
great  art  and  much  ingenuity.     What  advantage  do  we  de- 
rive from  such  writings  ?  What  delight  can  a  man  find  in 
employing  a  capacity  which  might  be  usefully  exerted  for 
the  noblest  purposes,  in  a  sort  of  sullen  labour,  in  which,  if 
the  author  could  succeed,  he  is  obliged  to  own,  that  nothing 
could  be  more  fatal  to  mankind  than  his  success  ? 


4  PREFACE. 

I  cannot  conceive  how  this  sort  of  writers  propose  to  com- 
pass the  designs  they  pretend  to  have  in  view,  by  the  instru- 
ments which  they  employ.  Do  they  pretend  to  cxah  the 
mind  of  man,  by  proving  him  no  better  than  a  beast  ?  Do 
they  think  to  enforce  the  practice  of  virtue,  by  denying  that 
vice  and  virtue  are  distinguished  by  good  or  ill  fortune  here, 
or  by  happiness  or  misery  hereafter  ?  Do  they  imagine  they 
shall  increase  our  piety,  and  our  reliance  on  God,  by  explod- 
ing his  providence,  and  insisting  that  he  is  neither  just  nor 
good  ?  Such  are  the  doctrines  which,  sometimes  concealed, 
sometimes  openly  and  fully  avowed,  are  found  to  prevail 
throughout  the  writings  of  Lord  Bolingbroke  ;  and  such 
are  the  reasonings  which  this  noble  writer  and  several  others 
have  been  pleased  to  dignify  with  the  name  of  philosophy. 
If  these  are  delivered  in  a  specious  manner,  and  in  a  ftyle  above 
the  common,  they  cannot  want  a  number  of  admirers  of  as 
much  docility  as  can  be  wished  for  in  disciples.  To  these 
the  editor  of  the  following  little  piece  has  addressed  it :  there 
i,s  no  reason  to  conceal  the  design  of  it  any  longer. 

The  design  was,  to  shew  that,  without  the  exertion  of  any 
considerable  forces,  the  same  engines  which  were  employed 
for  the  destruction  of  religion,  might  be  employed  with  equal 
success  for  the  subversion  of  government  •,  and  that  specious 
arguments  might  be  used  against  those  things  which  they, 
who  doubt  of  every  thing  else,  will  never  permit  to  be  ques- 
tioned. It  is  an  observation  which  I  think  Isocrates  makes 
in  one  of  his  orations  against  the  sophists,  that  it  is  far  more 
easy  to  maintain  a  wrong  cause,  and  to  support  paradoxical 
opinions  to  the  satisfaction  of  a  common  auditory,  than  to  es- 
tablish a  doubtful  truth  by  solid  and  conclusive  arguments. 
When  men  find  that  something  can  be  said  in  favour  of  what, 
on  the  very  proposal,  they  have  thought  utterly  indefensible, 
they  grow  doubtful  of  their  own  reason  -,  they  are  thrown 
into  a  sort  of  pleasing  surprize  ;  they  run  along  with  the 
speaker,  charmed  and  captivated  to  find  such  a  plentiful 
harvest  of  reasoning,  where  all  seemed  barren  and  unprom- 
ising. This  is  the  fairy  land  of  philosophy.  And  it  very 
frequently  happens,  that  those  pleasing  impressions  on  the 
imagination,  subsist  and  produce  their  effect,  even  after  the' 


preface:  5 

understanding  has  been  satisfied  of  their  unsubstantial  nature. 
There  is  a  sort  of  gloss  upon  ingenious  falsehoods,  that  daz- 
zles the  imagination,   but  which  neither  belongs  to,  nor  be- 
comes the  sober  aspect  of  truth.     I  have  met  with  a  quota- 
tion  in  Lord   Coke's  reports  that   pleased  me  very  much, 
though  I  do  not  know  from  whence  he  has  taken  it  :  "  In- 
terdum  jjicata  falsitaSf  (says   he)  in  miiltis  est  probabilior,  et  sa- 
pe  rationihus  v'lnc'it  nudam  veritatem"     In  such  cases,  the  wri- 
ter has  a  certain  iire  and  alacrity  inspired  into  him  by  a  con- 
sciousness, that  let  it  fare  how  it  will  with  the  subject,  his  in- 
genuity will  be   sure  of  applause ;  and  this  alacrity  becomes 
much  greater  if  he  acts  upon  the  offensive,  by  the  impetuos- 
ity that  always  accompanies  an  attack,  and  the  unfortunate 
propensity  which  mankind  have  to  the  finding  and  exagger- 
ating faults.     The  editor  is  satisfied  that  a  mind,  which  has 
no  restraint  from  a  sense  of  its  own  weakness,  of  its  subor- 
dinate rank  in  the  creation,  and  of  the  extreme  danger   of 
letting  the  imagination  loose  upon  some  subjects,  may  very 
plausibly  attack  every  thing  the  most  excellent  and  venera- 
ble ;  that  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  criticise  the  creation  it- 
self ;  and  that  if  we  were  to  examine  the  divine  fabricks  by 
our  ideas  of  reason  and  fitness,  and  to  use  the  same  method 
of  attack  by  which  some  men  have  assaulted  revealed  religion, 
we  might  with  as  good  colour,   and  with  the   same  success, 
make  the  wisdom  and  power  of  God  in  his  creation  appear 
to  many  no  better  than  foolishness.     There  is  an  air  of  plau- 
sibility which  accompanies  vulgar  reasonings  and  notions  ta- 
ken from  the  beaten  circle  of  ordinary  experience,  that  is  ad- 
mirably suited  to  the  narrow  capacities  of  some,  and  to  the  la- 
ziness of  others.     But  this  advantage  is  in  great  measure  lost, 
when  a  painful,  comprehensive  survey  of  a  very  complicated 
matter,  and  which  requires  a  great  variety  of  considerations, 
is  to  be  made  ;  when  we  must  seek  in  a  profound  subject,  not 
only  for  arguments,  but  for  new  materials  of  argument,  their 
measures  and  their  method  of  arrangement  •,  when  we  must 
go  out  of  the  sphere  of  our  ordinary  ideas,  and  when  we  can 
never  walk  sure,  but  by  being  sensible  of  our  blindness.    And 
this  we  must  do,  or  we  do  nothing,  whenever  we  examine  the 
result  of  a  reason  which  is  not  our  own.     Even  in  matters 


0  PREFACE. 

which  are,  as  it  were,  just  within  our  reach,  what  would  be-* 
come  of  the  world,  if  the  practice  of  all  moral  duties,  and 
the  foundations  of  society,  rested  upon  having  their  reasons 
made  clear  and  demonstrative  to  every  individual  ? 

The  editor  knows  that  the  subject  of  this  letter  is  not  so 
fully  handled  as  obviously  it  might  j  it  was  not  his  design  to 
say  all  that  could  possibly  be  said.  It  had  been  inexcusable  to 
fill  a  large  volume  with  the  abuse  of  reason  ;  nor  would  such 
an  abuse  have  been  tolerable  even  for  a  few  pages,  if  some  un- 
der-plot  of  more  consequence  than  the  apparent  design,  had 
not  been  carried  on. 

Some  persons  have  thought  that  the  advantages  of  the  state 
of  nature  ought  to  have  been  more  fully  displayed.  This  had 
undoubtedly  been  a  very  ample  subject  for  declamation  •,  but 
they  do  not  consider  the  character  of  the  piece.  The  writers 
against  religion,  whilst  they  oppose  every  system,  are  wisely 
careful  never  to  set  up  any  of  their  own.  If  some  inaccura- 
cies in  calculation,  in  reasoning,  or  in  method,  be  found, 
perhaps  these  will  not  be  looked  upon  as  faults  by  the  admir- 
ers of  Lord  BoLrNGBROKE  j  who  will,  the  editor  is  afraid,  ob- 
serve much  more  of  his  Lordship's  character  in  such  particu- 
lars of  the  following  letter,  than  they  are  like  to  find  of  that 
rapid  torrent  of  an  impetuous  and  overbearing  eloquence,  and 
the  variety  of  rich  imagery  for  which  that  writer  is  justly  ad- 
mired. 


LETTER 

TO 

LORD  ****. 


Oh  ALL  I  venture  to  say,  my  Lord,  that  in 
our  late  conversation,  you  were  inclined  to  the  party  which 
you  adopted  rather  by  the  feelings  of  your  good  nature,  than 
by  the  conviction  of  your  judgment  ?  We  laid  open  the  foun- 
dations of  society  ;  and  you  feared,  that  the  curiosity  of  this 
search  might  endanger  the  ruin  of  the  whole  fabrick.  You 
would  readily  have  allowed  my  principle,  but  you  dreaded  the 
consequences  j  you  thought,  that  having  once  entered  upon 
these  reasonings,  we  might  be  carried  insensibly  and  irresist- 
ibly farther  than  at  first  we  could  either  have  imagined  or 
wished.  But  for  my  part,  my  Lord,  I  then  thought,  and  am 
still  of  the  same  opinion,  that  errour,  and  not  truth  of  any 
kind,  is  dangerous ;  that  ill  conclusions  can  only  flow  from 
false  propositions  ;  and  that,  to  know  whether  any  proposi- 
tion be  true  or  false,  it  is  a  preposterous  method  to  examine 
it  by  its  apparent  consequences. 

These  were  the  reasons  which  induced  me  to  go  so  far  into 
that  inquiry ;  and  they  are  the  reasons  which  direct  me  in 
all  my  enquiries.  I  had  indeed  often  reflected  on  that  sub- 
ject before  I  could  prevail  on  myself  to  communicate  my  re- 
flections to  any  body.  They  were  generally  melancholy 
enough ;  as  those  usually  are  which  carry  us  beyond  the . 
mere  smrface  of  things  ;  and  which  would  undoubtedly  make 
the  lives  of  all  thinking  men  extremely  miserable,  if  the  same 
philosophy  which  caused  the  grief,  did  not  at  the  same  time 
administer  the  comfort. 


8  A  VINDICATION  OF 

On  considering  political  societies,  their  origin,  their  con- 
stitution, and  their  effects,  I  have  sometimes  been  in  a  good 
deal  more  than  doubt,  whether  the  Creator  did  ever  really 
intend   man  for  a  state  of  happiness.     He  has  mixed  in  his 
cup  a  number  of  natural  evils,  (in  spite  of  the  boasts  of  stoicism 
they  are  evils)  and  every  endeavour  which  the  art  and  policy 
of  mankind  has  used  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  this 
day,  in  order  to  alleviate,   or  cure  them,  has  only  served  to 
introduce  new  mischiefs,  or  to  aggravate  and  inflame  the  old. 
Besides  this,  the  mind  of  man  itself  is  too  active  and  restless 
a  principle  ever  to  settle  on  the  true  point  of  quiet.     It  dis- 
covers every  day  some  craving  want  in  a  body,  which  really 
wants  but   little.     It  every    day  invents   some  new  artificial 
rule  to  guide  that  nature  which,  if  left  to  itself,  were  the  best 
and  surest  guide.     It  finds  out  imaginary  beings  prescribing 
imaginary  laws  j  and  then,  it  raises  imaginary  terrours  to  sup- 
port a  belief  in  the  beings,  and  an  obedience  to  the  laws. 
Many  things  have  been  said,  and  very  well  undoubtedly,  on 
the  subjection  in  which  we  should  preserve  our  bodies  to  the 
government  of  our  understanding  ;  but  enough  has  not  been 
said  upon  the  restraint  which  our  bodily  necessities  ought  to 
lay  on  the  extravagant  sublimities  and  eccentrick  rovings  of 
our  minds.     The  body,  or,  as  some  love  to  call  it,  our  inferi- 
pur  nature,  is  wiser  in  its  own  plain  way,  and  attends  its  own 
business  more  directly  than  the  mind  with  all  its  boasted  sub- 
tiltv. 

In  the  state  of  nature,  without  question,  mankind  was  sub- 
jected to  many  and  great  inconveniences.  Want  of  union, 
Avant  of  mutual  assistance,  want  of  a  common  arbitrator  to  resort 
to  in  their  differences.  These  were  evils  which  they  could  not 
but  have  felt  pretty  severely  on  many  occasions.  The  original 
children  of  the  earth  lived  with  their  brethren  of  the  other 
kinds  in  much  equality.  Their  diet  must  have  been  confin- 
ed almost  wholly  to  the  vegetable  kind ;  and  the  same  tree, 
which  in  its  flourishing  state  produced  them  berries,  in  its  de- 
cay gave  them  an  habitation.  The  mutual  desires  of  the 
sexes  uniting  their  bodies  and  affections,  and  the  children, 
which  are  the  results  of  these  intercourses,  introduced  first 
the  notion  of  society,  and  taught  its  conveniences.    This  so- 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  9 

eiety,  founded  in  natural  appetites  and  instincts,  and  not  in 
any  positive  institution,  I  shall  call  natural  society.  Thus  far 
nature  went  and  succeeded  5  but  man  would  go  farther. 
The  great  errour  of  our  nature  is,  not  to  know  where  to 
Stop,  not  to  be  satisfied  with  any  reasonable  acquirement  ; 
not  to  compound  with  our  condition  ;  but  to  lose  all  we  have 
gained  by  an  insatiable  pursuit  after  more.  Man  found  a 
considerable  advantage  by  this  union  of  many  persons  to 
form  one  family  ;  he  therefore  judged  that  he  would  find  his 
account  proportionably  in  an  union  of  many  families  into  one 
body  politick.  And  as  nature  has  formed  no  bond  of  union 
to  hold  them  together,  he  supplied  this  defect  by  laws. 

This  IS  political  society.  And  hence  the  sources  of  what  are 
usually  called  states,  civil  societies,  or  governments  j  into 
some  form  of  which,  more  extended  or  restrained,  all  man- 
kind have  gradually  fallen.  And  since  it  has  so  happened, 
and  that  we  owe  an  implicit  reverence  to  all  the  institutions 
of  our  ancestors,  v/e  shall  consider  these  institutions  with  all 
that  modesty  with  which  we  ought  to  conduct  ourselves  In  ex- 
amining a  received  opinion  •,  but  with  all  that  freedom  and 
candour  which  we  owe  to  truth  wherever  we  find  it,  or  how- 
ever it  may  contradict  our  own  notions,  or  oppose  our  own  in- 
terests. There  is  a  most  absurd  and  audacious  method  of  rea- 
soning avowed  by  some  bigots  and  enthusiasts,  and  through 
fear  assented  to  by  some  wiser  and  better  men  ;  it  is  this  : 
They  argue  against  a  fair  discussion  of  popular  prejudices,  be- 
cause, say  they,  though  they  would  be  found  without  any 
reasonable  support,  yet  the  discovery  might  be  productive  of 
the  most  dangerous  consequences.  Absurd  and  blasphemous 
notion  !  as  if  all  happiness  was  not  connected  with  the  prac- 
tice of  virtue,  which  necessarily  depends  upon  the  knowledge 
of  truth  ;  that  is,  upon  the  knowledge  of  those  unalterable 
relations  which  Providence  has  ordained  that  every  thing 
should  bear  to  every  other.  These  relations,  which  are  truth 
itself,  the  foundation  of  virtue,  and  consequently,  the  only 
measures  of  happiness,  should  be  likewise  the  only  measures 
by  which  we  should  direct  our  reasoning.  To  these  we 
should  conform  in  good  earnest  ;  and  not  think  to  force  na- 
ture, and  the  whole  order  of  her  system,  by  a  compliance 
Vol.  I.  D 


10  A  VINDICATION  OF 

with  our  prld6,  and  folly,  to  conform  to  our  artificial  regula- 
tions. It  is  by  a  conformity  to  this  method  we  owe  the  dis- 
covery of  the  few  truths  we  know,  and  the  little  liberty  and 
rational  happiness  we  enjoy.  We  have  something  fairer  play 
than  a  reasoner  could  have  expected  formerly  •,  and  we  derive 
advantages  from  it  which  are  very  visible. 

The  fabrick  of  superstition  has  in  this  our  age  and  nation 
received  much  ruder  shocks  than  it  had  ever  felt  before  ;  and 
through  the  chinks  and  breaches  of  our  prison,  we  see  such 
glimmerings  of  light,  and  feel  such  refreshing  airs  of  liberty, 
as  dailv  raise  our  ardour  for  more.  The  miseries  derived  to 
mankind  from  superstition,  under  the  name  of  religion,  and 
of  ecclesiastical  tyranny  under  the  name  of  church  govern- 
ment, have  been  clearly  and  usefully  exposed.  We  begin  to 
think  and  to  act  froin  reason  and  from  nature  alone.  This  is 
true  of  several,  but  still  Is  by  far  the  majority  In  the  same 
old  state  of  blindness  and  slavery  ;  and  much  is  it  to  be  fear- 
ed that  we  shall  perpetually  relapse,  whilst  the  real  produc- 
tive cause  of  all  this  superstitious  folly,  enthuslastical  non- 
sense, and  holy  tyranny,  holds  a  reverend  place  in  the  esti- 
mation even  of  those  who  are  otherwise  enlightened. 

Civil  government  borrows  a  strength  from  ecclesiastical  ; 
and  artificial  laws  receive  a  sanction  from  artificial  revelations. 
The  Ideas  of  religion  and  government  are  closely  connected  j 
and  whilst  we  receive  government  as  a  thing  necessary,  or 
even  useful  to  our  well-being,  we  shall  In  spite  of  us  draw  In, 
as  a  necessary,  though  undesirable  consequence,  an  artificial 
religion  of  some  kind  or  other.  To  this  the  vulgar  will  al- 
ways be  voluntary  slaves  ;  and  even  those  of  a  rank  of  under- 
standing superiour,  will  now  and  then  involuntarily  feel  its 
influence.  It  is  therefore  of  the  deepest  concernment  to  us 
to  be  set  right  in  this  point ;  and  to  be  well  satisfied  whether 
civil  government  be  such  a  protector  from  natural  evils,  and 
such  a  nurse  and  increaser  of  blessings,  as  those  of  warm  im- 
aginations promise.  In  such  a  discussion,  far  am  I  from  pro- 
posing In  the  least  to  reflect  on  our  most  wise  form  of  gov- 
ernment j  no  more  than  I  would  In  the  freer  parts  of  my  phi- 
losophical writings,  mean  to  object  to  the  piety,  truth  and  per- 
fection of  our  most  excellent  church.     Both  I  am  sensible 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  i  1 

have  their  foundations  on  a  rock.  No  discovery  of  truth  can 
prejudice  them.  On  the  contrary,  the  more  closely  the  ori- 
gin of  religion  and  government  are  examined,  the  more  clear- 
ly their  excellencies  must  appear.  They  come  purified  from 
the  fire.  My  business  is  not  with  them.  Having  entered 
a  protest  against  all  objections  from  these  quarters,  I  may 
the  more  freely  enquire  from  history  and  experience,  how 
far  policy  has  contributed  in  all  times  to  alleviate  those  evils 
which  Providence,  that  perhaps  has  designed  us  for  a  state 
of  imperfection,  has  imposed  ;  how  far  our  physical  skill  has 
cured  our  constitutional  disorders  •,  and  whether  it  may  not 
have  introduced  new  ones,  curable  perhaps  by  no  skill. 

In  looking  over  any  state  to  form  a  judgment  on  it  ;  it 
presents  itself  in  two  lights,  the  external  and  the  internal. 
The  first,  that  relation  which  it  bears  in  point  of  friendship 
or  enmity  to  other  states.  The  second,  that  relation  which 
its  component  parts,  the  governing  and  the  governed,  bear 
to  each  other.  The  firfl  part  of  the  external  view  of  all 
states,  their  relation  as  friends,  makes  so  trifling  a  figure 
in  history,  that  I  am  very  sorry  to  say,  it  affords  me  but 
little  matter  on  which  to  expatiate.  The  good  offices  done 
by  one  nation  to  its  neighbour  j*  the  support  given  in  pub- 
lick  distress  ;  the  relief  afforded  in  general  calamity  ;  the 
protection  granted  in  emergent  danger  ;  the  mutual  return  of 
kindness  and  civility,  would  afford  a  very  ample  and  very  pleas- 
ing subject  for  history.  But,  alas !  all  the  history  of  all  times, 
concerning  all  nations,  does  not  afford  matter  enough  to  fill 
ten  pages,  though  it  should  be  spun  out  by  the  wire-drawing 
amplification  of  a  Guicciardini  himself.  The  glaring  side  is 
that  of  enmity.  "War  is  the  matter  which  fills  all  history,  and 
consequently  the  only  or  almost  the  only  view  in  which  we 
can  see  the  external  of  political  society,  is  in  a  hostile  shape ; 
and  the  only  actions,  to  which  we  have  always  seen,  and  still 
see  all  of  them  intent,  are  such  as  tend  to  the  destruction  of 
one  another.     War,  says  Machiavel,  ought   to  be  the  only 

*  Had  his  Lordship  lived  to  our  days,  to  have  seen  the  noble  relief  given 
by  this  nation  to  the  distressed  Portuguese,  he  had  perhaps  owned  this  part 
of  his  argument  a  little  weakened,  but  we  do  not  think  ourselves  entitled  to 
alter  his  Lordsiiip's  words,  but  that  we  are  bound  to  follow  him  exactly. 


12  A  VINDICATION  OF 

Study  of  a  prince  ;  and  by  a  prince,  he  means  every  sort  of 
state,  however  constituted.  He  ought,  says  this  great  pohti- 
cal  Doctor,  to  consider  peace  only  as  a  breathing-time,  which 
gives  him  leisure  to  contrive,  and  furnishes  ability  to  execute 
military  plans.  A  meditation  on  the  conduct  of  political  so- 
cieties made  old  Hobbes  imagine,  that  war  was  the  state  of 
nature ;  and  truly,  if  a  man  judged  of  the  individuals  of  our 
race  by  their  conduct  when  united  and  packed  into  nations 
and  kingdoms,  he  might  imagine  that  every  sort  of  virtue 
was  unnatural  and  foreign  to  the  mind  of  man. 

The  first  accounts  we  have  of  mankind  are  but  so  many 
accounts  of  their  butcheries.     AH  empires  have  been  cement- 
ed in  blood  ;   and  in  those  early  periods   when  the   race  of 
mankind  began  first  to  form  themselves  into  parties  and  com- 
binations, the  first  effect  of  the  combination,  and  indeed  the 
end  for  which  it  seems  purposely  formed,  and  best  calculated, 
is  their  mutual  destruction.     All  ancient  history  is  dark  and 
uncertain.     One  thing  however  is  clear.     There  were  con- 
querors, and  conquests  in  those  days  ;  and  consequently,  all 
that  devastation,  by  which  they  are  formed,  and  all  that  op- 
pression by  which  they  are  maintained.     We  know  little  of 
Sesostris,  but  that  he  led  out  of  Egypt  an  army   of  above 
700,000  men  ;  that  he  over-ran  the  Mediterranean  coast  as 
far  as  Colchis  ;  that  in  some  places,  he  met  but  little  resist- 
ance, and  of  course  shed  not  a  great  deal  of  blood  ;  but  that 
he  found  in  others,  a  people  who  knew  the  value  of  their  lib- 
erties, and  sold  them  dear.     Whoever  considers  the  army 
this  conqueror  headed,  the  space  he  traversed,  and  the  oppo- 
sition he  frequently  met,  with  the  natural  accidents  of  sick- 
ness, and  the  dearth  and  badness  of  provision  to  which  he 
must  have  been  subject  in  the  variety  of  climates  and  coun» 
tries  his  march  lay  through  ;  if  he  knows  any  thing,  he  must 
know,  that  even  the  conqueror's  army  must  have  suffered 
greatly  ;  and  that,  of  this  immense  number,  but  a  very  small 
part  could  have  returned  to  enjoy  the  plunder  accumulated  by 
the  loss  of  so  many  of  their  companions,  and  the  devastation  of 
so  considerable  a  part  of  the  world.     Considering,  I  say,  the 
vast  army  headed  by  this  conqueror,  Avhose  unwieldy  weight 
was  almost  alone  sufiicient  to  wear  down  its  strength,  it  will 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  13 

be  far  from  excess  to  suppose  that  one  half  was  lost  in  the  ex- 
pedition. If  this  was  the  state  of  the  victorious,  and  from 
the  circumstances,  it  must  have  been  this  at  the  least ;  the 
vanquished  must  have  had  a  much  heavier  loss,  as  the  greatest 
slaughter  is  always  in  the  flight,  and  great  carnage  did  in 
those  times  and  countries  ever  attend  the  first  rage  of  con- 
quest. It  will  therefore  be  very  reasonable  to  allow  on  their 
account  as  much  as,  added  to  the  losses  of  the  conqueror, 
may  amount  to  a  million  of  deaths,  and  then  we  shall  see  this 
conqueror,  the  oldest  we  have  on  the  records  of  history, 
{though,  as  we  have  observed  before,  the  chronology  of 
these  remote  times  is  extremely  uncertain)  opening  the  scene 
by  a  destruction  of  at  least  one  million  of  his  species,  unpro- 
voked but  by  his  ambition,  without  any  motives  but  pride, 
cruelty,  and  madness,  and  v/ithout  any  benefit  to  himself; 
(for  Justin  expressly  tells  us  he  did  not  maintain  his  con- 
quests) but  solely  to  make  so  many  people,  in  so  distant 
countries,  feel  experimentally,  how  severe  a  scourge  Provi- 
dence intends  for  the  human  race,  when  he  gives  one  man 
the  power  over  many,  and  arms  his  naturally  impotent,  and 
feeble  rage,  with  the  hands  of  millions,  who  know  no  com- 
mon principle  of  action,  but  a  blind  obedience  to  the  passions 
of  their  ruler. 

The  next  personage  who  figures  In  the  tragedies  of  this 
ancient  theatre  is  Serniramis  :  for  we  have  no  particulars  of 
Ninus,  but  that  he  made  immense  and  rapid  conquests, 
which  doubtless  were  not  compassed  without  the  usual  car- 
nage. We  see  an  army  of  above  three  millions  employed 
by  this  martial  queen  in  a  war  against  the  Indians.  We  see 
the  Indians  arming  a  yet  greater  ;  and  we  behold  a  war  contin- 
ued with  much  fury,  and  with  various  success.  This  ends 
in  the  retreat  of  the  queen,  with  scarce  a  third  of  the  troops 
employed  in  the  expedition  ;  an  expedition,  which  at  this 
rate  must  have  cost  two  millions  of  souls  on  her  part ;  and  it 
is  not  unreasonable  to  judge  that  the  country  which  was  the 
seat  of  war,  must  have  been  an  equal  sufferer.  But  I  am 
content  to  detract  from  this,  and  to  suppose  that  the  Indians 
lost  only  half  so  much,  and  then  the  account  stands  thus  : 
In  this  war  alone,  (for  Serniramis  had  other  wars)  in  this  sin- 


14  A  VINDICATION  OF 

gle  reign,  and  in  this  one  spot  of  the  globe,  did  three  milUons 
of  souls  expire,  with  all  the  horrid  and  shocking  circumstan- 
ces which  attend  all  wars,  and  in  a  quarrel,  in  which  none  of 
the  sufferers  could  have  the  least  rational  concern. 

The  Babylonian,  Assyrian,  Median,  and  Persian  monarchies 
must  have  poured  out  seas  of  blood  in  their  formation,  and 
in  their  destruction.  The  armies  and  fleets  of  Xerxes,  their 
numbers,  the  glorious  stand  made  against  them,  and  the  un- 
fortunate event  of  all  his  mighty  preparations,  are  known  to 
every  body.  In  this  expedition,  draining  half  Asia  of  its  in- 
habitants, he  led  an  army  of  about  two  millions  to  be  slaugh- 
tered, and  wasted,  by  a  thousand  fatal  accidents,  in  the  same 
place  where  his  predecessors  had  before  by  a  similar  madness 
consumed  the  flower  of  so  many  kingdoms,  and  wasted  the 
force  of  so  extensive  an  empire.  It  is  a  cheap  calculation  to 
say,  that  the  Persian  empire  in  its  wars,  against  the  Greeks, 
and  Scythians,  threw  away  at  least  four  millions  of  its  sub- 
jects, to  say  nothing  of  its  other  wars,  and  the  losses  sustain- 
ed in  them.  These  were  their  losses  abroad  ;  but  the  war  was 
brought  home  to  them,  first  by  Agesilaus,  and  afterwards,  by- 
Alexander.  I  have  not,  in  this  retreat,  the  books  necessary 
to  make  very  exact  calculations ;  nor  is  it  necessary  to  give 
more  than  hints  to  one  of  your  Lordship's  erudition.  You  will 
recollect  his  uninterrupted  series  of  success.  You  will  run 
over  his  battles.  You  will  call  to  mind  the  carnage  which 
was  made.  You  will  give  a  glance  at  the  whole,  and  you 
will  agree  with  me  ;  that  to  form  this  hero  no  less  than 
twelve  hundred  thousand  lives  must  have  been  sacrificed  ; 
but  no  sooner  had  he  fallen  himself  a  sacrifice  to  his  vices, 
than  a  thousand  breaches  were  made  for  ruin  to  enter,  and 
give  the  last  hand  to  this  scene  of  misery  and  destruction. 
His  kingdom  was  rent  and  divided ;  which  served  to  employ 
the  more  distinct  parts  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces,  and  bury 
the  whole  in  blood  and  slaughter.  The  kings  of  Syria  and 
of  Egypt,  the  kings  of  Pergamus  and  Macedon,  without  in- 
termission worried  each  other  for  above  two  hundred  years  ; 
until  at  last  a  strong  power  arising  in  the  west,  rushed  in 
upon  them  and  silenced  their  tumults,  by  involving  all  the 
contending  parties  in  the  same  destruction.     It  is  little  to  say, 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  JjJ 

that  the  contentions  between  the  successors  of  Alexander 
depopulated  that  part  of  the  world  of  at  least  two  millions. 

The  struggle  between  the  Macedonians  and  Greeks,  and 

before  that,  the   disputes  of  the  Greek  commonwealths  a- 

mong  themselves,  for  an  unprofitable  superiority,  form  one 

of  the  bloodiest  scenes  in    history.     One  is  astonished  how 

such  a  small  spot  could  furnish  men  sufficient  to  sacrifice  to 

the  pitiful  ambition  of  possessing  five  or  six  thousand  more 

acres,  or  two  or  three  more  villages  :  yet  to  see  the  acrimony 

and  bitterness  with  which  this  was  disputed  between  the  A- 

thenians   and    Lacedemonians  *,   what  armies  cut  off;   what 

fleets   sunk,  and  burnt  j   what  a  number  of  cities  sacked, 

and    their    inhabitants     slaughtered,    and     captived  ;    one 

would   be   induced  to  believe  the  decision  of  the  fate   of 

mankind   at   least,  depended   upon  it  !   But  these   disputes 

ended  as  all  such  ever  have  done,   and  ever   will  do  ;    in  a 

real  weakness  of  all  parties  ;  a  momentary  shadow,  and  dream 

of  power  in  some  one  ;  and  the  subjection  of  all  to  the  yoke 

of  a  stranger,  who  knows  how  to   profit  of  their  divisions. 

This  at  least  was  the  case  of  the  Greeks ;  and  sure,  from  tlie 

earliest  accounts  of  them,  to  their  absorption  Into  the  Roman 

empire,  we  cannot  judge  that  their  intestine  divisions,   and 

their  foreign  wars,  consumed  less  than  three  millions  of  their 

inhabitants. 

What  an  Aceldama,  what  a  field  of  blood  Sicilv  has  been 
in  ancient  times,  whilst  the  mode  of  its  government  was  con- 
troverted between  the  republican  and  tyrannical  parties,  and 
the  possession  struggled  for  by  the  natives,  the  Greeks,  the 
Carthaginians,  and  the  Romans,  your  Lordship  will  easily 
recollect.  You  will  remember  the  total  destruction  of  such 
bodies  as  an  army  of  300,000  men.  You  will  find  every 
page  of  Its  history  dyed  In  blood,  and  blotted  and  confound- 
ed by  tumults,  rebellions,  massacres,  assassinations,  proscrip- 
tions, and  a  series  of  horrour  beyond  the  histories  perhaps  of 
any  other  nation  in  the  world  :  though  the  histories  of  all  na- 
tions are  made  up  of  similar  matter.  I  once  more  excuse  my- 
self in  point  of  exactness  for  want  of  books.  But  I  shall  esti- 
mate the  slaughters  In  this  island  but  at  two  millions  \  which 
your  Lordship  will  find  much  short  of  the  reality. 


16  A  VINDICATION  OF 

Let  us  pass  by  the  wars,  and  the  consequences  of  them, 
which  wasted  Grecia-Magna,  before  the  Roman  power  pre- 
vailed in  that  part  of  Italy.  They  are  perhaps  exaggerated  y 
therefore  I  shall  only  rate  them  at  one  million.  Let  us 
hasten  to  open  that  great  scene  which  establishes  the  Roman 
empire,  and  forms  the  grand  catastrophe  of  the  ancient  dra- 
ma. This  empire,  whilst  in  its  infancy,  began  by  an  effusion 
of  human  blood  scarcely  credible.  The  neighbouring  little 
states  teemed  for  new  destruction  :  the  Sabines,  the  Sam- 
nites,  the  jEqui,  the  Volsci,  the  Hetrurians,  were  broken  by 
a  series  of  slaughters  which  had  no  interruption,  for  some 
hundreds  of  years  ;  slaughters  which  upon  all  sides  consumed 
more  than  two  millions  of  the  wretched  people.  The  Gauls 
rushing  into  Italy  about  this  time,  added  the  total  destruction 
of  their  own  armies  to  those  of  the  antient  inhabitants.  In 
short,  it  were  hardly  possible  to  conceive  a  more  horrid  and 
bloody  picture,  if  that  the  Punick  wars  that  ensued  soon  af- 
ter did  not  present  one,  that  far  exceeds  it.  Here  we  find 
that  climax  of  devastation,  and  ruin,  which  seemed  to  shake 
the  whole  earth.  The  extent  of  this  war  which  vexed  so 
many  nations,  and  both  elements,  and  the  havock  of  the  hu- 
man species  caused  in  both,  really  astonishes  beyond  expres- 
sion, when  it  is  nakedly  considered,  and  those  matters  which 
are  apt  to  divert  our  attention  from  it,  the  characters,  ac- 
tions, and  designs  of  the  persons  concerned,  are  not  taken  in- 
to the  account.  These  wars,  I  mean  those  called  the  Punick 
wars,  could  not  have  stood  the  human  race  in  less  than  three 
millions  of  the  species.  And  yet  this  forms  but  a  part  only,  and 
a  very  small  part,  of  the  havock  caused  by  the  Roman  ambi- 
tion. The  war  with  Mithridates  was  very  little  less  bloody  ; 
that  prince  cut  off  at  one  stroke  1 50,000  Romans  by  a  mas- 
sacre. In  that  war  Sylla  destroyed  300,000  men  at  Chero- 
nea.  He  defeated  Mithridates'  army  under  Dorilaus,  and 
slew  300,000.  This  great  and  unfortunate  prince  lost  anoth- 
er 300,000  before  Cyzicum.  In  the  course  of  the  war  he  had 
innumerable  other  losses  ;  and  having  many  intervals  of  suc- 
cess, he  revenged  them  severely.  He  was  at  last  totally  over- 
thrown ;  and  he  crushed  to  pieces  the  king  of  Armenia  his  ally 
by  the  greatness  of  his  ruin.    All  who  had  connexions  with  him 


NATURAL    SOCIETY.  17 

shared  the  same  fate.  The  merciless  genius  of  Sylla  had  its 
full  scope  -,  and  the  streets  of  Athens  were  not  the  only  ones 
which  ran  with  blood.  At  this  period,  the  sword,  glutted 
with  foreign  slaughter,  turned  its  edge  upon  the  bowels  of 
the  Roman  republick  itself  ;  and  presented  a  scene  of  cruel- 
ties and  treasons  enough  almost  to  obliterate  the  memory  of 
all  the  external  devastations.  I  intended,  my  Lord,  to  have 
proceeded  in  a  sort  of  method  in  estimating  the  numbers  of 
mankind  cut  off  in  these  wars  which  we  have  on  record. 
But  I  am  obliged  to  alter  my  design.  Such  a  tragical  uni- 
formity of  havock  and  murder  would  disgust  your  Lordship 
as  much  as  it  would  me  ;  and  I  confess  I  already  feel  my 
eyes  ake  by  keeping  them  so  long  intent  on  so  bloody  a 
prospect.  I  shall  observe  little  on  the  Servile,  the  Social, 
the  Gallick,  and  Spanish  wars  ;  nor  upon  those  with  Jugur- 
tha,  nor  Antiochus,  nor  many  others  equally  important,  and 
carried  on  with  equal  fury.  The  butcheries  of  Julius  Caesar  a- 
lone,  are  calculated  by  somebody  else  -,  the  numbers  he  has 
been  a  means  of  destroying  have  been  reckoned  at  1,200,000. 
But  to  give  your  Lordship  an  idea  that  may  serve  as  a  stand- 
ard, by  which  to  measure,  in  some  degree,  the  others  ;  you  will 
turn  your  eyes  on  Judea  ;  a  very  inconsiderable  spot  of  the 
earth  in  itself,  though  ennobled  by  the  singular  events  which 
had  their  rise  in  that  country. 

This  spot  happened,  it  matters  not  here  by  what  means,  to 
become  at  several  times  extremely  populous,  and  to  supply  men 
for  slaughters  scarcely  credible,  if  other  well-known  and  well- 
attested  ones  had  not  given  them  a  colour.  The  first  settling 
of  the  Jews  here,  was  attended  by  an  almost  entire  extirpa- 
tion of  all  the  former  inhabitants.  Their  own  civil  wars, 
and  those  with  their  petty  neighbours,  consumed  vast  mul- 
titudes almost  every  year  for  several  centuries ;  and  the  ir- 
ruptions of  the  kings  of  Babylon  and  Assyria  made  immense 
ravages.  Yet  we  have  their  history  but  partially,  in  an  in- 
distinct confused  manner ;  so  that  I  shall  only  throw  the 
strong  point  of  light  upon  that  part  which  coincides  with 
Roman  history,  and  of  that  part  only  on  the  point  of  time 
when  they  received  the  great  and  final  stroke  which  made 
them  no  more  a  nation  j  a  stroke  which  is  allowed  to  have 

Vol.  I.  E 


^8  A  VINDICATION  OF 

cut  ofF  little  less  than  two  millions  of  that  people.  I  say- 
nothing  of  the  loppings  made  from  that  stock  whilst  it  stood; 
nor  from  the  suckers  that  grew  out  of  the  old  root  ever 
since.  But  if  in  this  inconsiderable  part  of  the  globe,  such 
a  carnage  has  been  made  in  two  or  three  short  reigns,  and 
that  this  great  carnage,  great  as  it  is,  makes  but  a  minute 
part  of  what  the  histories  of  that  people  inform  us  they  suf- 
fered ;  what  shall  we  judge  of  countries  more  extended,  and 
which  have  waged  wars  by  far  more  considerable  .'' 

Instances  of  this   sort  compose  the   uniform  of  history. 
But  there  have  been  periods   when   no   less  than   universal 
destruction  to   the  race   of  mankind  seems  to  have  been 
threatened.     Such  was  that,  when  the  Goths,  the  Vandals, 
and  the   Huns   poured  into  Gaul,  Italy,  Spain,  Greece,  and 
Africa,  carrying  destruction  before  them  as  they   advanced, 
and  leaving  horrid  desarts  every  way  behind  them.      Vastum 
ubiqiie  sileutiiimy  secreti  colles  ;  fiimantia  procul  tecta  ;   nemo  ex- 
ploratoribus  obviuSy  is  what  Tacitus  calls  fades  victoria.     It  is 
always  so  -,  but  was  here  emphatically  so.     From  the   north 
proceeded  the  swarms  of  Goths,  Vandals,  Huns,  Ostrogoths, 
who  ran  towards  the  south  into  Africa  itself,  which  suffered 
as  all  to  the  north  had  done.       About   this   time,  another 
torrent    of  barbarians,   animated  by  the  same    fury,    and 
encouraged  by  the  same  success,  poured  out    of  the   south, 
and   ravaged  all  to   the   north-east   and   west,   to    the  re- 
motest parts  of  Persia  on  one  hand,    and  to   the    banks    of 
the  Loire    or  further    on   the    other ;    destroying   all    the 
proud  and  curious  monuments  of  human  art,  that  not  even 
the  memory  might  seem  to    survive  of  the  former   inhabi- 
tants.     What  has    been   done    since,  and   what  will    con- 
tinue to  be  done  while  the  same  inducements  to  war  contin- 
ue, I  shall  not  dwell  upon.     I  shall  only  in  one  word  men- 
tion the  horrid  effects  of  bigotry  and  avarice,  in  the  conquest 
of  Spanish  America ;  a  conquest  on  a  low  estimation  effected 
by  the  murder  of  ten  millions  of  the  species.     I  shall  draw 
to  a  conclusion  of  this  part,  by  making  a  general  calculation 
of  the  whole.     I  think  I  have  actually  mentioned  above 
thirty-six  millions.     I  have  not  particularized  any  more.     I 
do  not  pretend  to  exactness ;  therefore,  for  the  sake  of  a  gen- 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  J  9 

eral  view,  I  shall  lay  together  all  those  actually  slain  in  bat- 
tles, or  who  have  perished  in  a  no  less  miserable  manner  by 
the  other  destructive  consequences  of  war  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  world  to  this  day,  in  the  four  parts  of  it,  at  a 
thousand  times  as  much ;  no  exaggerated  calculation,  allow- 
ing for  time  and  extent.  We  have  not  perhaps  spoke  of  the 
iive-hundredth  part ;  I  am  sure  I  have  not  of  what  is  actu- 
ally ascertained  in  history ;  but  how  much  of  these  butch- 
eries are  only  expressed  in  generals,  what  part  of  time  history 
has  never  reached,  and  what  vast  spaces  of  the  habitable 
globe  it  has  not  embraced,  I  need  not  mention  to  your  Lord- 
ship. I  need  not  enlarge  on  those  torrents  of  silent  and 
inglorious  blood  which  have  glutted  the  thirsty  sands  of 
Africk,  or  discoloured  the  polar  snow,  or  fed  the  savage  for- 
ests of  America  for  so  many  ages  of  continual  war.  Shall  I, 
to  justify  my  calculations  from  the  charge  of  extravagance, 
add  to  the  account  those  skirmifhes  which  happen  in  all 
wars,  without  being  singly  of  sufficient  dignity  in  mischief, 
to  merit  a  place  in  history,  but  which  by  their  frequency 
compensate  for  this  comparative  innocence  ;  shall  I  inflame 
the  account  by  those  general  massacres  which  have  devour- 
ed whole  cities  and  nations  j  those  wasting  pestilences,  those 
consuming  famines,  and  all  those  furies  that  follow  in  the 
train  of  war  ?  I  have  no  need  to  exaggerate ;  and  I  have 
purposely  avoided  a  parade  of  eloquence  on  this  occasion.  I 
should  despise  it  upon  any  occasion ;  else  in  mentioning 
these  slaughters,  it  is  obvious  how  much  the  whole  might 
be  heightened,  by  an  affecting  description  of  the  horrours 
that  attend  the  wasting  of  kingdoms,  and  sacking  of  cities. 
But  I  do  not  write  to  the  vulgar,  nor  to  that  which  only 
governs  the  vulgar,  their  passions.  I  go  upon  a  naked  and 
moderate  calculation,  just  enough,  without  a  pedantlcal  ex- 
actness, to  give  your  Lordship  some  feeling  of  the  effects  of 
political  society.  I  charge  the  whole  of  these  effects  on  po- 
litical society.  I  avow  the  charge,  and  I  shall  presently  make 
it  good  to  your  Lordship's  satisfaction.  The  numbers  I 
particularized  are  about  thirty-six  millions.  Besides  those 
killed  in  battles  I  have  said  something,  not  half  what  the 
matter  would  have  justified,  but  something  I  have  said,  con- 


20  A  VINDICATION  OF 

cernlng  the  consequences  of  war  even  more  dreadful  than 
that  monstrous  carnage  itself  which  shocks  our  humanity, 
and  almost  staggers  our  belief.  So  that  allowing  me  in'  my 
exuberance  one  way,  for  my  deficiency  in  the  other,  you  will 
find  me  not  unreasonable.  I  think  the  numbers  of  men  now 
upon  earth  are  computed  at  five  hundred  millions  at  the  most. 
Here  the  slaughter  of  mankind,  on  what  you  will  call  a  small 
calculation,  amounts  to  upwards  of  seventy  times  the  num- 
ber of  souls  this  day  on  the  globe  :  a  point  which  may  fur- 
nish matter  of  reflexion  to  one  less  inclined  to  draw  conse- 
quences than  your  Lordship. 

I  now  come  to  shew,  that  political  society  is  justly  charge- 
able with  much  the  greatest  part  of  this  destruction  of  the 
species.  To  give  the  fairest  play  to  every  side  of  the  ques- 
tion, I  will  OA^Ti  that  there  is  a  haughtiness,  and  fierceness  in 
human  nature,  which  will  cause  innumerable  broils,  place 
men  in  what  situation  you  please  ;  but  owning  this,  I  still  in- 
sist in  charging  it  to  political  regulations,  that  these  broils 
are  so  frequent,  so  cruel,  and  attended  with  consequences  so 
deplorable.  In  a  state  of  nature,  it  had  been  impossible  to 
find  a  number  of  men,  sufiicient  for  such  slaughters,  agreed 
in  the  same  bloody  purpose  ;  or  allowing  that  they  might 
have  come  to  such  an  agreement,  (an  impossible  supposition) 
yet  the  means  that  simple  nature  has  supplied  them  with,  are 
by  no  means  adequate  to  such  an  end  ;  many  scratches,  many 
bruises  undoubtedly  would  be  received  upon  all  hands  ;  but 
only  a  few,  a  very  few  deaths.  Society,  and  politicks,  which 
have  given  us  these  destructive  views,  have  given  us  also  the 
means  of  satisfying  them.  From  the  earliest  dawnings  of 
policy  to  this  day,  the  invention  of  men  have  been  sharpen- 
ing and  improving  the  mystery  of  murder,  from  the  first  rude 
essays  of  clubs  and  stones,  to  the  present  perfection  of  gun- 
nery, cannoneering,  bombarding,  mining,  and  all  these  spe- 
cies of  artificial,  learned,  and  refined  cruelty,  in  which  we 
are  now  so  expert,  and  which  make  a  principal  part  of  what 
politicians  have  taught  us  to  believe  is  our  principal  glory. 

How  far  mere  nature  would  have  carried  us,  we  may  judge 
by  the  example  of  those  animals,  who  still  follow  her  laws, 
and  even  of  those  to  whom  she  has  given  dispositions  more 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  21 

fierce,  and  arms  more  terrible  than  ever  she  intended  we 
should  use.  It  is  an  incontestible  truth,  that  there  is  more 
havock  made  in  one  yeai-  by  men,  of  men,  than  has  been 
made  by  all  the  lions,  tygers,  panthers,  ounces,  leopards,  hy- 
enas, rhinoceroses,  elephants,  bears,  and  wolves,  upoia  their 
several  species,  since  the  beginning  of  the  world  ;  though 
these  agree  ill  enough  with  each  other,  and  have  a  much 
greater  proportion  of  rage  and  fury  in  their  composition  than 
we  have.  But  with  respect  to  you,  ye  legislators,  ye  civilizers 
of  mankind  !  ye  Orpheuses,  Moseses,  Minoses,  Solons,  Thes- 
euses,  Lycurguses,  Numas  !  with  respect  to  you  be  it  spok- 
en, your  regulations  have  done  more  mischief  in  cold  blood, 
than  all  the  rage  of  the  fiercest  animals  in  their  greatest  ter- 
rours,  or  furies,  has  ever  done,  or  ever  could  do  ! 

These  evils  are  not  accidental.  Whoever  will  take  the 
pains  to  consider  the  nature  of  society,  will  find  they  result 
directly  from  its  constitution.  For  as  subordination^  or  in 
other  words,  the  reciprocation  of  tyranny,  and  slavery,  is 
requisite  to  support  these  societies,  the  interest,  the  ambition, 
the  malice,  or  the  revenge,  nay  even  the  whim  and  caprice 
of  one  ruling  man  among  them,  is  enough  to  arm  all  the  rest, 
without  any  private  views  of  their  own,  to  the  worst  and 
blackest  purposes  ;  and  what  is  at  once  lamentable,  and  ridic- 
ulous, these  wretches  engage  under  those  banners  with  a  fu- 
ry greater  than  if  they  Avere  animated  by  revenge  for  their 
own  proper  wrongs. 

It  is  no  less  worth  observing,  that  this  artificial  division  of 
mankind,  into  separate  societies,  is  a  perpetual  source  in  itself 
of  hatred  and  dissention  among  them.  The  names  which 
distinguish  them  are  enough  to  blow  up  hatred,  and  rage. 
Examine  history  ;  consult  present  experience  ;  and  you  will 
find,  that  far  the  greater  part  of  the  quarrels  between  sever- 
al nations,  had  scarce  any  other  occasion,  than,  that  these 
nations  were  different  combinations  of  people,  and  called  by 
different  names  •,  to  an  Englishman,  the  name  of  a  French- 
man, a  Spaniard,  an  Italian,  much  more  a  Turk,  or  a  Tartar, 
raises  of  course  ideas  of  hatred,  and  contempt.  If  you  would 
inspire  this  compatriot  of  ours  with  pity  or  regard,  for  one  of 
these  ;  would  you  not  hide  that  distinction  ?  You  would  not 


22  A  VINDICATION  OF 

pray  him  to  compassionate  the  poor  Frenchman,  or  the  un- 
happy German.  Far  from  it ;  you  would  speak  of  him  as  a 
foreigner^  an  accident  to  which  all  are  liable.  You  would 
represent  him  as  a  ivaii^  one  partaking  with  us  of  the  same 
common  nature,  and  subject  to  the  same  law.  There  is 
something  so  averse  from  our  nature  in  these  artificial  politi- 
cal distinctions,  that  Ave  need  no  other  trumpet  to  kindle  us 
to  war,  and  destruction.  But  there  is  something  so  benign 
and  healing  in  the  general  voice  of  humanity,  that  maugre 
all  oiu:  regulations  to  prevent  it,  the  simple  name  of  man  ap- 
phed  properly,  never  fails  to  work  a  salutary  effect. 

This  natural  unpremeditated  effect  of  policy  on  the  un- 
possessed passions  of  mankind,  appears  on  other  occasions. 
The  very  name  of  a  politician,  a  statesman,  is  sure  to  cause 
terrour  and  hatred  j  it  has  always  connected  with  it  the  ideas 
of  treachery,  cruelty,  fraud  and  tyranny  ;  and  those  writers 
who  have  faithfully  unveiled  the  mysteries  of  state-freema- 
sonry, have  ever  been  held  in  general  detestation,  for  even 
knowing  so  perfectly  a  theory  so  detestable.  The  case  of 
Machiavel  seems  at  first  sight  something  hard  in  that  re- 
spect. He  is  obliged  to  bear  the  iniquities  of  those  whose 
maxims  and  rules  of  government  he  published.  His  specula- 
tion is  more  abhorred  than  their  practice. 

But  if  there  were  no  other  arguments  against  artificial  so- 
ciety than  this  I  am  going  to  mention,  methinks  it  ought  to 
fall  by  this  one  only.  All  writers  on  the  science  of  policy 
are  agreed,  and  they  agree  with  experience,  that  all  govern- 
ments must  frequently  infringe  the  rules  of  justice  to  sup- 
port themselves  ;  that  truth  must  give  way  to  dissimulation ; 
honesty  to  convenience ;  and  humanity  itself  to  the  reigning 
interest.  The  whole  of  this  mystery  of  iniquity  is  called  the 
reason  of  state.  It  is  a  reason  which  I  own  I  cannot  pene- 
trate. What  sort  of  a  protection  is  this  of  the  general  right, 
that  is  maintained  by  infringing  the  rights  of  particulars  ? 
What  sort  of  justice  is  this,  which  is  inforced  by  breaches  of 
its  own  laws  ?  These  paradoxes  I  leave  to  be  solved  by  the 
able  heads  of  legislators  and  politicians.  For  my  part,  I  say 
what  a  plain  man  would  say  on  such  an  occasion.  I  can 
never  believe,  that  any  institution  agreeable  to  nature,  and 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  gg 

proper  for  mankind,  could  find  it  necessary,  or  even  expedi- 
ent in  any  case  whatsoever  to  do,  what  the  best  and  worthi- 
est instincts  of  mankind  warn  us  to  avoid.  But  no  wonder, 
that  what  is  set  up  in  opposition  to  the  state  of  nature,  should 
preserve  itself  by  trampling  upon  the  law  of  nature. 

To  prove  that  these  sorts  of  policed  societies  are  a  viola- 
tion offered  to  nature,  and  a  constraint  upon  the  human 
mind,  it  needs  only  to  look  upon  the  sanguinary  measures, 
and  instruments  of  violence  which  are  every  where  used  to 
support  them.  Let  us  take  a  review  of  the  dungeons,  whips, 
chains,  racks,  gibbets,  with  which  every  society  is  abundant- 
ly stored,  by  which  hundreds  of  victims  are  annually  offered 
up  to  support  a  dozen  or  two  in  pride  and  madness,  and  mil- 
lions in  an  abject  servitude  and  dependence.  There  was  a 
time,  when  I  looked  Avith  a  reverential  awe  on  these  myste- 
ries of  policy  j  but  age,  experience,  and  philosophy  have  rent 
the  veil ;  and  I  view  this  sanctum  sanctorum,  at  least,  without 
any  enthusiastick  admiration.  I  acknowledge  indeed,  the 
necessity  of  such  a  proceeding  in  such  institutions  ;  but  I 
must  have  a  very  mean  opinion  of  institutions  where  such 
proceedings  are  necessary. 

It  is  a  misfortune,  that  in  no  part  of  the  globe  natural  lib- 
erty and  natural  religion  are  to  be  found  pure,  and  free  from 
the  mixture  of  political  adulterations.  Yet  we  have  implant- 
ed in  us  by  Providence  ideas,  axioms,  rules,  of  what  is  pious, 
just,  fair,  honest,  which  no  political  craft,  nor  learned  soph- 
istry, can  entirely  expel  from  our  breasts.  By  these  we 
judge,  and  we  cannot  otherwise  judge  of  the  several  artificial 
modes  of  religion  and  society,  and  determine  of  them  as  they 
approach  to,  or  recede  from  this  standard. 

The  simplest  form  of  government  is  despotism^  where  all 
the  inferiour  orbs  of  power  are  moved  merely  by  the  will  of 
the  Supreme,  and  all  that  are  subjected  to  them,  directed 
in  the  same  manner,  merely  by  the  occasional  will  of  the 
magistrate.  This  form,  as  it  is  the  most  simple,  so  it  is  in- 
finitely the  most  general.  Scarce  any  part  of  the  world  is 
exempted  from  its  power.  And  in  those  few  places  where 
men  enjoy  what  they  call  liberty,  it  is  continually  in  a  totter- 
ing situation,  and  makes  greater  and  greater  strides  to  that 


24  A  VINDICATION  Ot 

gulph  of  despotism  which  at  last  swallows  up  every  species 
of  government.  The  manner  of  ruling  being  directed  mere- 
ly by  the  will  of  the  weakest,  and  generally  the  worst  naan 
in  the  society,  becomes  the  most  foolish  and  capricious  thing, 
at  the  same  time  that  it  is  the  most  terrible  and  destructive, 
that  well  can  be  conceived.  In  a  despotism  the  principal 
person  finds,  that  let  the  want,  misery,  and  indigence  of  his 
subjects  be  what  they  will,  he  can  yet  possess  abundantly  of 
every  thing  to  gratify  his  most  insatiable  wishes.  He  does 
more.  He  finds  that  these  gratifications  increase  in  propor- 
tion to  the  wretchedness  and  slavery  of  his  subjects.  Thus 
encouraged  both  by  passion  and  interest  to  trample  on  the 
publick  welfare,  and  by  his  station  placed  above  both  shame 
and  fear,  he  proceeds  to  the  most  horrid  and  shocking  out- 
rages upon  mankind.  Their  persons  become  victims  of  his 
suspicions.  The  slightest  displeasure  is  death  -,  and  a  disa- 
greeable aspect  is  often  as  great  a  crime  as  high  treason.  In 
the  court  of  Nero,  a  person  of  learning,  of  unquestioned 
merit,  and  of  unsuspected  loyalty,  was  put  to  death  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  he  had  a  pedantick  countenance 
Avhich  displeased  the  emperour.  This  very  monster  of  man- 
kind appeared  in  the  beginning  of  his  reign  to  be  a  person 
of  virtue.  Many  of  the  greatest  tyrants  on  the  records  of 
history  have  begun  their  reigns  in  the  fairest  manner.  But 
the  ti'uth  is,  this  unnatural  power  corrupts  both  the  heart 
and  the  understanding.  And  to  prevent  the  least  hope  of 
amendment,  a  king  is  ever  surrounded  by  a  crowd,  of  infa- 
mous flatterers,  who  find  their  account  in  keeping  him  from 
the  least  light  of  reason,  till  all  ideas  of  rectitude  and  justice 
are  utterly  erased  from  his  mind.  When  Alexander  had  in 
his  fury  inhumanly  butchered  one  of  his  best  friends  and 
bravest  captains  ;  on  the  return  of  reason  he  began  to  con- 
ceive an  horrour  suitable  to  the  guilt  of  such  a  murder.  In 
this  juncture,  his  council  came  to  his  assistance.  But  what 
did  his  council  ?  They  found  him  out  a  philosopher  who 
gave  him  comfort.  And  in  what  manner  did  this  philoso- 
pher comfort  him  for  the  loss  of  such  a  man,  and  heal  his 
conscience,  flagrant  with  the  smart  of  such  a  crime  ?  You 
have  the  matter  at  length  in  Plutarch.     He  told  him  j  « that 


N.ITURAL  SOCIETY.  -gS 

hi  a  sovereign  do  ivhat  he  wiU,  all  his  actions  are  just  and  /aw- 
fu/y  because  they  are  his"  The  palaces  of  all  princes  abound 
with  such  courtly  philosophers.  The  consequence  was  such 
as  might  be  expected.  He  gre^v  every  day  a  monster  more 
abandoned  to  unnatural  lust,  to  debauchery,  to  drunkenness, 
and  to  murder.  And  yet  this  was  originally  a  great  man,  of 
uncommon  capacity,  and  a  strong  propensity  to  virtue.  But 
unbounded  power  proceeds  step  by  step,  until  it  has  eradi- 
cated every  laudable  principle.  It  has  been  remarked,  that 
there  is  no  prince  so  bad,  whose  favourites  and  ministers  are 
not  worse.  There  is  hardly  any  prince  without  a  favourite, 
by  whom  he  is  governed  in  as  arbitrary  a  manner  as  he  gov- 
erns the  wretches  subjected  to  him.  Here  the  tyranny  is 
doubled.  There  are  tAvo  courts,  and  two  interests ;  both 
very  different  from  the  interests  of  the  people.  The  favour- 
ite knows  that  the  regard  of  a  tyrant  is  as  unconstant  and 
capricious  as  that  of  a  woman  ;  and  concluding  his  time  to  be 
sliort,  he  makes  haste  to  fdl  up  the  measure  of  his  iniquity, 
in  rapine,  in  luxury,  and  in  revenge.  Every  avenue  to  the 
throne  is  shut  up.  He  oppresses,  and  ruins  the  people,  whilst 
he  persuades  the  prince,  that  those  murmurs  raised  by  his 
own  oppression  are  the  effects  of  disaffection  to  the  prince's 
government.  Then  is  the  natural  violence  of  despotism  in- 
flamed, and  aggravated  by  hatred  and  revenge.  To  deserve 
well  of  the  state  is  a  crime  against  the  prince.  To  be  popu- 
lar, and  to  be  a  traitor,  are  considered  as  synonymous  term.s. 
Even  virtue  is  dangerous,  as  an  aspiring  quality,  that  claims 
an  esteem  by  itself,  and  independent  of  the  countenance  of 
the  court.  What  has  been  said  of  the  chief,  is  true  of  the 
inferiour  officers  of  this  species  of  government ;  each  in  his 
province  exercising  the  same  tyranny,  and  grinding  the  peo- 
ple by  an  oppression,  the  more  severely  felt,  as  it  is  near 
them,  and  exercised  by  base  and  subordinate  persons.  For 
the  gross  of  the  people  ;  they  are  considered  as  a  mere  herd 
of  cattle  ;  and  really  in  a  little  time  become  no  better  ;  all 
principle  of  honest  pride,  all  sense  of  the  dignity  of  their  na- 
ture, is  lost  in  their  slavery.  The  day,  says  Homer,  which 
makes  a  man  a  slave,  takes  away  half  his  worth  ;  and  in  fact, 
he  loses  every  impulse  to  action,  but  that  low  and  base  one 
Vol.  I.  F 


26  A  VINDICATION  OF 

of  fear. — In  this  kind  of  government  human  nature  is  not 
only  abused,  and  insulted,  but  it  is  actually  degraded  and 
sunk  into  a  species  of  brutality.  The  consideration  of  this 
made  Mr.  Locke  fay,  with  great  justice,  that  a  government 
of  this  kind  was  worse  than  anarchy  •,  indeed  it  is  so  abhor- 
red,  and  detested  by  all  who  live  under  forms  that  have  a 
milder  appearance,  that  there  is  scarce  a  rational  man  in  Eu- 
rope, that  would  not  prefer  death  to  Asiatick  despotism. 
Here  then  we  have  the  acknowledgment  of  a  great  philoso- 
pher, that  an  irregular  state  of  nature  is  preferable  to  such  a 
government  j  we  have  the  consent  of  all  sensible  and  gener- 
ous men,  who  carry  it  yet  further,  and  avow  that  death  it- 
self is  preferable ;  and  yet  this  species  of  government,  so 
justly  condemned,  and  so  generally  detested,  is  what  infinite- 
ly the  greater  part  of  mankind  groan  under,  and  have  groan- 
ed under  from  the  beginning.  So  that  by  sure  and  uncon- 
tested principles,  the  greatest  part  of  the  governments  on 
earth  must  be  concluded  tyrannies,  impostures,  violations  of 
the  natural  rights  of  mankind,  and  worse  than  the  most  dis- 
orderly anarchies.  How  much  other  forms  exceed  this,  we 
shall  consider  immediately. 

In  all  parts  of  the  world,  mankind,  however  debased,  re- 
tains still  the  sense  oi feeling ;  the  weight  of  tyranny,  at  last, 
becomes  insupportable ;  but  the  remedy  is  not  so  easy ;  in 
general,  the  only  remedy  by  which  they  attempt  to  cure  the 
tyranny,  is  to  change  the  tyrant.  This  is,  and  always  was 
the  case  for  the  greater  part.  In  some  countries,  however, 
were  found  men  of  more  penetration  j  who  discovered, 
*'  that  to  live  by  one  man^s  willy  ivas  the  cause  of  all  men^s  mis- 
eryJ^  They  therefore  changed  their  former  method,  and 
assembling  the  men  in  their  several  societies,  the  most  re- 
spectable for  their  understanding  and  fortunes,  they  confided 
to  them  the  charge  of  the  publick  welfare.  This  originally 
formed  what  is  called  an  aristocracy.  They  hoped,  it  would 
be  impossible  that  such  a  number  could  ever  join  in  any  de- 
sign against  the  general  good  ;  and  they  promised  themselves 
a  great  deal  of  security  and  happiness,  from  the  united  coun- 
cils of  so  many  able  and  experienced  persons.  But  it  is  now 
found  by  abundant  experience,  that  an  aristocracyj  and  a  des' 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  27 

potismy  differ  but  in  name ;  and  that  a  people,  who  are  in 
general  excluded  from  any  share  of  the  legislative,  are  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  as  much  slaves,  when  twenty,  indepen- 
dent of  them,  govern,  as  when  but  one  domineers.  The 
tyranny  is  even  more  felt,  as  every  individual  of  the  nobles 
has  the  haughtiness  of  a  sultan  •,  the  people  are  more  miser- 
able, as  they  seem  on  the  verge  of  liberty,  from  which  they 
are  for  ever  debarred ;  this  fallacious  idea  of  liberty,  whilst 
it  presents  a  vain  shadow  of  happiness  to  the  subject,  binds 
faster  the  chains  of  his  subjection.  What  is  left  undone,  by 
the  natural  avarice  and  pride  of  those  who  are  raised  above 
the  others,  is  completed  by  their  suspicions,  and  their  dread 
of  losing  an  authority,  which  has  no  support  in  the  common 
utility  of  the  nation.  A  Genoese,  or  a  Venetian  republick, 
is  a  concealed  despotism ;  where  you  find  the  same  pride  of 
the  rulers,  the  same  base  subjection  of  the  people,  the  samiC 
bloody  maxims  of  a  suspicious  policy.  In  one  respect  the 
aristocracy  is  worse  than  the  despotism.  A  body  politick, 
whilst  it  retains  its  authority,  never  changes  its  maxims  ;  a 
despotism^  which  is  this  day  horrible  to  a  supreme  degree,  by 
the  caprice  natural  to  the  heart  of  man,  may,  by  the  same 
caprice  otherwise  exerted,  be  as  lovely  the  next ;  in  a  suc- 
cession, it  is  possible  to  meet  with  some  good  princes.  If 
there  have  been  Tiberiuses,  Caligulas,  Neros,  there  have 
been  likewise  the  serener  days  of  Vespasians,  Tituses,  Tra- 
jans,  and  Antonines  ;  but  a  body  politick  is  not  influenced 
by  caprice  or  whim  ;  it  proceeds  in  a  regular  manner ;  its 
succession  is  insensible ;  and  every  man  as  he  enters  it,  ei- 
ther has,  or  soon  attains  the  spirit  of  the  whole  body.  Never 
was  it  known,  that  an  aristocracy^  which  was  haughty  and 
tyrannical  in  one  century,  became  easy  and  mild  in  the  next. 
In  effect,  the  yoke  of  this  species  of  government  is  so  galling, 
that  whenever  the  people  have  got  the  least  power,  they  have 
shaken  it  off  with  the  utmost  indignation,  and  established  a 
popular  form.  And  when  they  have  not  had  strength 
enough  to  support  themselves,  they  have  thrown  themselves 
into  the  arms  of  despotism^  as  the  more  eligible  of  the  two 
evils.  This  latter  was  the  case  of  Denmark,  who  sought  a 
refuge  from  the  oppression  of  its  nobility,  in  the  strong  hold 


28  A  VINDICATION  OF 

of  arbitrary  power.     Poland  has  at  present  the  name  of  r e- 
pubUck,  and  it  is  one  of  the  aristocrcitick  form  ;  but  it  is  well 
known,  that  the  little-finger  of  this  government,   is  heavier 
than  the  loins  of  arbitrary  power  in  most  nations.     The  peo- 
ple are  not  only  politically,  but  personally  slaves,  and  treated 
with  the   utmost   indignity.     The   repubiick   of  Venice   is 
somewhat  more  moderate  j  yet  even  here,  so  heavy   is  the 
aristocratick  yoke,  that  the  nobles  have  been  obliged  to  ener- 
vate the  spirit  of  their  subjects  by  every  sort  of  debauchery  5 
they  have  denied  them  the  liberty  of  reason,  and  they  have 
made  them  amends,  by  what  a  base  soul  will  think  a  more 
valuable  liberty,  by  not  only  allowing,  but  encouraging  them 
to  corrupt  themselves  in  the  most  scandalous  manner.     They 
consider  their  subjects,  as  the  farmer  does  the  hog  he  keeps 
to  feast  upon.     He  holds  him  fast  in  his  stye,  but  allows  him 
to  wallow  as  much  as  he  pleases  in  his  beloved  filth  and  glut- 
tony.    So  scandalously  debauched  a  people  as  that  of  Venice, 
is  to  be  met  with  no  where  else.     High,  low,  men,  women, 
clergy,  and  lait)^,   are  all  alike.     The  ruling  nobility  are  no 
less  afraid  of  one  another,  than  they  are  of  the  people ;  and 
for  that  reason,  politically  enervate  their  own   body  by  the 
same  effeminate  luxury,  by  which  they  corrupt  their  subjects. 
They  are  impoverished  by  every  means  which  can  be  invent- 
ed ;  and  they  are  kept  in  a  perpetual  terrour  by  the  horrours 
of  a  state-inquisition ;  here  you  see  a  people  deprived  of  all 
rational   freedom,  and  tyrannized  over  by  about  two  thou- 
sand men ;  and  yet  this  body   of  two   thousand,  are  so   far 
from  enjoying  any  liberty  by  the  subjection  of  the  rest,  that 
they  are  in  an  infinitely  severer  state  of  slavery ;  they  make 
themselves  the  most  degenerate,  and  unhappy  of  mankind, 
for  no  other  purpose  than  that  they  may  the  more  effectual- 
ly contribute  to  the  misery  of  a  whole  nation.     In  short,  the 
regular  and  methodical   proceedings   of  an  arisiocracy,  are 
more  intolerable  than  the  very  excesses  of  a  despotism,  and 
in  general,  much  further  from  any  remedy. 

Thus,  my  Lord,  we  have  pursued  aristocracy  through  its 
whole  progress  ;  we  have  seen  the  seeds,  the  growth,  and  the 
fruit.  It  could  boast  none  of  the  advantages  of  a  despotism^ 
miserable  as  those  advantages  were,  and  it  was  overloaded 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  £9 

with  an  exuberance  of  mischiefs,  unknown  even  to  despotism 
itself.  In  eiFect,  it  is  no  more  than  a  disorderly  tyranny. 
This  form  therefore  could  be  little  approved,  even  in  specula- 
tion, by  those  who  were  capable  of  thinking,  and  could  be 
less  borne  in  practice  by  any  who  were  capable  of  feeling. 
However,  the  fruitful  policy  of  man  was  not  yet  exhausted. 
He  had  yet  another  farthing-candle  to  supply  the  deficiencies 
of  the  sun.  This  was  the  third  form,  known  by  political  wri- 
ters under  the  name  of  democracy.  Here  the  people  trans- 
acted all  publick  business,  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  in  their 
own  persons  :  their  laws  were  made  by  themselves,  and  upon 
any  failure  of  duty,  their  officers  were  accountable  to  them- 
selves, and  to  them  only.  In  all  appearance,  they  had  secur- 
ed by  this  method  the  advantages  of  order  and  good  govern- 
ment, without  paying  their  liberty  for  the  purchase.  Now, 
my  Lord,  we  are  come  to  the  master-piece  of  Grecian  refine- 
ment, and  Roman  solidity,  a  popular  government.  The  ear- 
liest and  most  celebrated  republick  of  this  model,  was  that  of 
Athens.  It  was  constructed  by  no  less  an  artist,  than  the  cel- 
ebrated poet  and  philosopher,  Solon.  But  no  sooner  was 
this  political  vessel  launched  from  the  stocks,  than  it  overset, 
even  in  the  life-time  of  the  builder.  A  tyranny  immediately 
supervened  -,  not  by  a  foreign  conquest,  not  by  accident,  but 
by  the  very  nature  and  constitution  of  a  democracy.  An  art- 
ful man  became  popular,  the  people  had  power  in  their 
hands,  and  they  devolved  a  considerable  share  of  their 
power  upon  their  favourite  ;  and  the  only  use  he  made  of 
this  power,  was  to  plunge  those  who  gave  it  into  slavery. 
Accident  restored  their  liberty,  and  the  same  good  fortune 
produced  men  of  uncommon  abilities  and  uncommon  virtues 
amongst  them.  But  these  abilities  were  suffered  to  be  of  lit- 
tle service  either  to  their  possessors  or  to  the  state.  Some  of 
these  men,  for  whose  sakes  alone  we  read  their  history,  they 
banished  ;  others  they  imprisoned  ;  and  all  they  treated  with 
various  circumstances  of  the  most  shameful  ingratitude.  Re- 
publicks  have  many  things  in  the  spirit  of  absolute  monarchy, 
but  none  more  than  this  •,  a  shining  merit  is  ever  hated  or  sus- 
pected in  a  popular  assembly,  as  Avell  as  in  a  court ',  and  all 
services  done  the  state,  are  looked  upon  as  dangerous  to  the 


30  A  VINDICATION  OF 

rulers,  whether  sultans  or  senators.  The  Ostracism  at  Alliens 
was  built  upon  this  principle.  The  giddy  people,  whom  we 
have  now  under  consideration,  being  elated  with  some  'flash- 
es of  success,  which  they  owed  to  nothing  less  than  any  mer- 
it of  their  own,  began  to  tyrannize  over  their  equals,  who 
had  associated  with  them  for  their  common  defence.  With 
their  prudence  they  renounced  all  appearance  of  justice. 
They  entered  into  wars  rashly  and  wantonly.  If  they  were 
unsuccessful,  instead  of  growing  wiser  by  their  misfortune, 
they  threw  the  whole  blame  of  their  own  misconduct  orf  the 
ministers  who  had  advised,  and  the  generals  who  had  con- 
ducted those  wars;  until  by  degrees  they  had  cut  off  all  who 
could  serve  them  in  their  councils  or  their  battles.  If  at  any 
time  these  wars  had  an  happier  issue,  it  was  no  less  difficult  to 
deal  with  them  on  account  of  their  pride  and  insolence.  Fu- 
rious in  their  adversity,  tyrannical  in  their  successes,  a  com^- 
mander  had  more  trouble  to  concert  his  defence  before  the 
people,  than  to  plan  the  operations  of  the  campaign.  It  was 
not  uncommon  for  a  general,  under  the  horrid  despotism  of 
the  Roman  emperours,  to  be  ill  received  in  proportion  to  the 
greatness  of  his  services.  Agricola  is  a  strong  instance  of 
this.  No  man  had  done  greater  things,  nor  with  more  hon- 
est ambition.  Yet  on  his  return  to  court,  he  was  obli<yed  to 
enter  Rome  with  all  the  secrecy  of  a  criminal.  He  went  to 
the  palace,  not  like  a  victorious  commander  who  had  merited 
and  might  demand  the  greatest  rewards,  but  like  an  offend- 
er who  had  come  to  supplicate  a  pardon  for  his  crimes.  His 
reception  was  answerable  :  "  Brevi  osciilo,  i5f  nullo  sermone 
exceptus^  turbo:  servientium  im?nistus  est."  Yet  in  that  worst 
season  of  this  worst  of  monarchical*  tyrannies,  modesty,  ciis- 
cretion,  and  a  coolness  of  temper,  formed  some  kind  of  secu- 
rity even  for  the  highest  merit.  But  at  Athens,  the  nicest 
and  best  studied  behaviour  was  not  a  sufficient  guard  for  a 
man  of  great  capacity.  Some  of  their  bravest  commanders 
were  obliged  to  fly  their  country,  some  to  enter  into  the  ser- 
vice of  its  enemies,  rather  than  abide  a  popular  determina- 
tion on  their  conduct,  lest,  as  one  of  them  said,  their  giddi- 

*  Sciant  quibus  moris  illiclta  mirari,  posse  etiam  sub  malls  principibus 
inagnos  viros,  &c.    See  42  to  the  end  of  it. 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  SI 

ness  might  make  tlie  people  condemn  where  they  meant  to 
acquit ;  to  throw  in  a  black  bean  even  when  they  intended  a 
white  one. 

The  Athenians  made  a  very  rapid  progress  to  the  most  en- 
ormous excesses.  The  people  under  no  restraint  soon  grew 
dissolute,  luxurious,  and  idle.  They  renounced  all  labour, 
and  began  to  subsist  themselves  from  the  publick  revenues. 
They  lost  all  concern  for  their  common  honour  or  safety,  and 
could  bear  no  advice  that  tended  to  reform  them.  At  this 
time  truth  became  offensive  to  those  lords  the  people,  and 
most  highly  dangerous  to  the  speaker.  The  orators  no  long- 
er ascended  the  rostrum,  but  to  corrupt  them  further  with  the 
most  fulsome  adulation.  These  orators  were  all  bribed  by 
foreign  princes  on  the  one  side  or  the  other.  And  besides 
its  own  parties,  in  this  city  there  were  parties,  and  avowed 
ones  too,  for  the  Persians,  Spartans,  and  Macedonians,  sup- 
ported each  of  them  by  one  or  more  demagogues  pensioned 
and  bribed  to  this  iniquitous  service.  The  people,  forgetful 
of  all  virtue  and  publick  spirit,  and  intoxicated  with  the  flat- 
teries of  their  orators  {these  courtiers  of  republicks,  and  en- 
dowed v/ith  the  distinguishing  characteristicks  of  all  other 
courtiers)  this  people,  I  say,  at  last  arrived  at  that  pitch  of 
madness,  that  they  coolly  and  deliberately,  by  an  express 
law,  made  it  capital  for  any  man  to  propose  an  application  of 
the  immense  sums  squandered  in  publick  shows,  even  to  the 
most  necessary  purposes  of  the  state.  When  you  see  the 
people  of  this  republick  banishing  and  murdering  their  best 
and  ablest  citizens,  dissipating  the  publick  treasure  with  the 
most  senseless  extravagance,  and  spending  their  whole  time, 
as  spectatoi-s  or  actors,  in  playing,  fiddling,  dancing  and  sing- 
ing, does  it  not,  my  Lord,  strike  your  imagination  with  the 
image  of  a  sort  of  complex  Nero  ?  And  does  it  not  strike 
you  with  the  greater  horrour,  when  you  observe,  not  one 
man  only,  but  a  whole  city,  grown  drunk  with  pride  and 
power,  running  with  a  rage  of  folly  into  the  same  mean  and 
senseless  debauchery  and  extravagance  ?  But  if  this  people 
resembled  Nero  in  their  extravagance,  much  more  did  they 
resemble  and  even  exceed  him  in  cruelty  and  injustice.  In 
the  time  of  Pericles,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  times  in  the 


82  A  VINDICATION  O? 

history  of  that  commomvealth,  a  King  of  Egypt  sent  them  a 
donation  of  corn.  This  they  were  mean  enough  to  accept. 
And  had  the  Egyptian  prince  intended  the  ruin  of  this  city 
of  wicked  bedlamites,  he  could  not  have  taken  a  more  effec- 
tual method  to  do  it,  than  by  such  an  ensnaring  largess.  The 
distribution  of  this  bounty  caused  a  quarrel  ;  the  majority 
set  on  foot  an  enquiry  into  the  title  of  the  citizens  ;  and  upon 
a  vain  pretence  of  illegitimacy,  newly  and  occasionlly  set  up, 
they  deprived  of  their  share  of  the  royal  donation  no  less 
than  five  thousand  of  their  own  body.  They  went  further  ; 
they  disfranchised  them  ;  and  having  once  begun  with  an 
act  of  injustice,  they  could  set  no  bounds  to  it.  Not  content 
with  cutting  them  oft  from  the  rights  of  citizens,  they  plun- 
dered these  unfortunate  wretches  of  all  their  substance  ;  and 
to  crown  this  master-piece  of  violence  and  tyranny,  they  ac- 
tually sold  every  man  of  the  five  thousand  as  slaves  in  the 
publick  market.  Observe,  my  Lord,  that  the  five  thousand 
we  here  speak  of,  were  cut  off  from  a  body  of  no  more  than 
nineteen  thousand  j  for  the  entire  number  of  citizens  was 
no  greater  at  that  time.  Could  the  tyrant  who  wished  the 
Roman  people  but  one  neck  ;  could  the  tyrant  Caligula  him- 
self have  done,  nay,  he  could  scarcely  wish  for,  a  greater 
mischief,  than  to  have  cut  off,  at  one  stroke,  a  fourth  of  his 
people  .''  Or  has  the  cruelty  of  that  series  of  sanguine  tyrants, 
the  Ccesars,  ever  presented  such  a  piece  of  flagrant  and  ex- 
tensive wickedness  ?  The  whole  history  of  this  celebrated 
repubhck  is  but  one  tissue  of  rashness,  folly,  ingratitude,  in- 
justice, tumult,  violence,  and  tyranny,  and  indeed  of  every 
species  of  wickedness  that  can  well  be  imagined.  This  was 
a  citv  of  wise  men,  in  which  a  minister  could  not  exercise 
his  functions  ;  a  warlike  people,  amongst  whom  a  general 
did  not  dare  either  to  gain  or  lose  a  battle  ;  a  learned  nation 
In  which  a  philosopher  could  not  venture  on  a  free  enquiry. 
This  was  the  city  v/hich  banished  Themistocles,  starved  Aris- 
tides,  forced  into  exile  Miltiades,  drove  out  Anaxagoras,  and 
poisoned  Socrates.  This  was  a  city  which  changed  the  form 
of  its  government  with  the  moon  ;  eternal  conspiracies,  rev- 
olutions daily,  nothing  fixed  and  established.  A  republick, 
as  an  antient  philosopher  has  observed,  is  no  one  species  of 


Natural  society.  33 

government,  but  a  magazine  of  every  species  j  her€  you  find 
every  sort  of  it,  and  that  in  the  worst  form.  As  there  is  a 
perpetual  change,  one  rising  and  the  other  falling,  you  have 
all  the  violence  and  wicked  policy,  by  which  a  beginning 
power  must  always  acquire  its  strength,  and  all  the  weakness 
by  which  falling  states  are  brought  to  a  complete  destruction. 

Rome  has  a  more  venerable  aspect  than  Athens  j  and  she 
conducted  her  affairs,  so  far  as  related  to  the  ruin  and  oppres- 
sion of  the  greatest  part  of  the  world,  with  greater  wisdom 
and  more  uniformity.  But  the  domestick  economy  of  these 
two  states  was  nearly  or  altogether  the  same.  An  internal 
dissention  constantly  tore  to  pieces  the  bowels  of  the  Roman 
commonwealth.  You  find  the  same  confusion,  the  same  fac- 
tions, which  subsited  at  Athens,  the  same  tumults,  the  same 
revolutions,  and  in  fine,  the  same  slavery  ;  if  perhaps  their 
former  condition  did  not  deserve  that  name  altogether  as 
well.  All  other  republicks  were  of  the  same  character. 
Florence  was  a  transcript  of  Athens.  And  the  modern  re- 
publicks, as  they  approach  more  or  less  to  the  democratick 
form,  partake  more  or  less  of  the  nature  of  those  which  I 
have  described. 

We  are  now  at  the  close  of  our  review  of  the  three  simple 
forms  of  artificial  society,  and  we  have  shewn  them,  however 
they  may  differ  in  name,  or  in  some  slight  circumstances,  to 
•be  all  alike  in  effect ;  in  effect,  to  be  all  tyrannies.  But  sup- 
pose we  were  inclined  to  make  the  most  ample  concessions  ; 
let  us  concede  Athens,  Rome,  Carthage,  and  two  or  three 
more  of  the  antient,  and  as  many  of  the  modern  common- 
wealths, to  have  been,  or  to  be,  free  and  happy,  and  to  owe 
their  freedom  and  happiness  to  their  political  constitution. 
Yet  allowing  all  this,  what  defence  does  this  make  for  artifi- 
cial society  in  general,  that  these  inconsiderable  spots  of  the 
•globe  have  for  some  short  space  of  time  stood  as  exceptions 
to  a  charge  so  general  ?  But  when  we  call  these  govern- 
ments free,  or  concede  that  their  citizens  were  happier  than 
those  which  lived  under  different  forms,  it  is  merely  ex  ahun- 
danii.  For  we  should  be  greatly  mistaken,  if  we  really 
thought  that  the  majority  of  the  people  which  filled  these 
cities,  enjoyed  even  that  nominal  political  freedom  of  which 

Vol.  I.  G 


S4  A  VINDICATION  OF 

I  have  spoken  so  much  aheady.  In  rcaHty,  they  had  no 
part  of  it.  In  Athens  there  were  usually  from  ten  to  thirty 
thousand  freemen :  this  was  the  utmost.  But  the  slave* 
usually  amounted  to  four  hundred  thousand,  and  soinetimes 
to  a  great  many  more.  The  freemen  of  Sparta  and  Rome 
were  not  more  numerous  in  proportion  to  those  whom  they 
held  in  a  slavery,  even  more  terrible  than  the  Athenian. 
Therefore  state  the  matter  fairly  :  the  free  states  never  form-f 
ed,  though  they  were  taken  altogether,  the  thousandth  part 
of  the  habitable  globe  ;  the  freemen  in  these  states  were  nev- 
er the  twentieth  part  of  the  people,  and  the  time  they  sub- 
sisted is  scarce  any  thing  in  that  immense  ocean  of  duration  in 
which  time  and  slavery  are  so  nearly  commensurate.  There- 
fore call  these  free  states,  or  popular  governments,  or  what 
you  please  ;  when  we  consider  the  majority  of  their  inhab- 
itants, and  regard  the  natural  rights  of  mankind,  they  must 
appear  in  reality  and  truth,  no  better  than  pitiful  and  op* 
pressive  oligarchies. 

After  so  fair  an  examen,  wherein  nothing  has  been  exag- 
gerated ;  no  fact  produced  which  cannot  be  proved,  and 
none  which  has  been  produced  in  any  wise  forced  or  strain- 
ed, while  thousands  have,  for  brevity,  been  omitted  •,  after 
so  candid  a  discussion  in  all  respects  j  what  slave  so  passive, 
what  bigot  so  blind,  what  enthusiast  so  headlong,  what  poli- 
tician so  hardened,  as  to  stand  up  in  defence  of  a  system  cal- 
culated for  a  curse  to  mankind  ?  a  curse  under  which  they 
smart  and  groan  to  this  hour,  without  thoroughly  knowing 
the  nature  of  the  disease,  and  wanting  understanding  or  cour- 
age to  supply  the  remedy. 

I  need  not  excuse  myself  to  your  Lordship,  nor,  I  think, 
to  any  honest  man,  for  the  zeal  I  have  shewn  in  this  cause  j 
for  it  is  an  honest  zeal,  and  in  a  good  cause.  I  have  defend- 
ed natural  religion  against  a  confederacy  of  atheists  and  di- 
vines. I  now  plead  for  natural  society  against  politicians, 
and  for  natural  reason  against  all  three.  When  the  world 
is  in  a  fitter  temper  than  it  is  at  present  to  hear  truth,  or 
when  I  shall  be  more  indifferent  about  its  temper ;  ray 
thoughts  may  become  more  publick.  In  the  mean  time,  let 
them  repose  in  my  own  bosom,  and  in  the  bosoms  of  such 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  $5 

men  as  are  fit  to  be  initiated  in  the  sober  mysteries  of  trutll 
and  reason.  My  antagonists  have  already  done  as  much  zi 
I  could  desire.  Parties  in  religion  and  politicks  make  suffi- 
scient  discoveries  concerning  each  other,  to  give  a  sober  man 
a  proper  caution  against  them  all.  The  monarchick,  and 
aristocratical,  and  popular  partisans  have  been  jointly  laying 
their  axes  to  the  root  of  all  government,  and  have  in  their 
turns  proved  each  other  absurd  and  inconvenient.  In  vain 
you  tell  me  that  artificial  government  is  good,  but  that  I  fall 
out  only  with  the  abuse.  The  thing  !  the  thing  itself  is  the 
abuse  !  Observe,  my  Lord,  I  pray  you,  that  grand  errour 
upon  which  all  artificial  legislative  power  is  founded.  It  was 
observed,  that  men  had  ungovernable  passions,  which  made 
it  necessary  to  guard  against  the  violence  they  might  offer  to 
each  other.  They  appointed  governours  over  them  for  this 
reason  !  but  a  worse  and  more  perplexing  difficulty  arises, 
how  to  be  defended  against  the  governours  ?  Quis  custodiet 
ipsos  custodes  P  In  vain  they  change  from  a  single  person  to 
a  few.  These  few  have  the  passions  of  the  one,  and  they 
unite  to  strengthen  themselves,  and  secure  the  gratification 
of  their  lawless  passions  at  the  expense  of  the  general  good. 
In  vain  do  we  fly  to  the  many.  The  case  is  worse ;  theif 
passions  are  less  under  the  government  of  reason,  they  are 
augmented  by  the  contagion,  and  defended  against  all  at- 
tacks by  their  multitude. 

I  have  purposely  avoided  the  mention  of  the  mixed  form 
of  government,  for  reasons  that  will  be  very  obvious  to  your 
Lordship.  But  my  caution  can  avail  me  but  little*  Yoii 
will  not  fail  to  urge  it  against  me  in  favour  of  political  socie- 
ty. You  will  not  fail  to  show  how  the  errours  of  the  seve- 
ral simple  modes  are  corrected  by  a  mixture  of  all  of  them^ 
and  a  proper  balance  of  the  several  powers  in  such  a  state. 
I  confess,  my  Lord,  that  this  has  been  long  a  darling  mistake 
of  my  own ;  and  that  of  all  the  sacrifices  I  have  made  to 
truth,  this  has  been  by  far  the  greatest.  When  I  confess 
that  I  think  this  notion  a  mistake,  I  know  to  whom  I  am 
speaking,  for  I  am  satisfied  that  reasons  are  like  liquors,  and 
there  are  some  of  such  a  nature  as  none  but  strong  heads  cari 
bear.     There  are  few  with  whom  I  can  communicate  so  free-* 


36  A  VINDICATION  OF 

ly  as  with  Pope.  But  Pope  cannot  bear  every  truth.  He 
has  a  timidity  which  hinders  the  full  exertion  of  his  faculties, 
almost  as  effectually  as  bigotry  cramps  those  of  the  general 
herd  of  mankind.  But  whoever  is  a  genuine  follower  of 
truth,  keeps  his  eye  steady  upon  his  guide,  indifferent  whith- 
er he  is  led,  provided  that  she  is  the  leader.  And,  my 
Lord,  if  it  be  properly  considered,  it  were  infinitely  better  to 
remain  possessed  by  the  whole  legion  of  vulgar  mistakes,  than 
to  reject  some,  and  at  the  same  time  to  retain  a  fondness,  for 
others  altogether  as  absurd  and  irrational.  The  first  has  at 
least  a  consistency,  that  makes  a  man,  however  erroneously, 
uniform  at  least  5  but  the  latter  way  of  proceeding  is  such  an 
inconsistent  chim?era  and  jumble  of  philosophy,  and  vulgar 
prejudice,  that  hardly  any  thing  more  ridiculous  can  be  con- 
ceived. Let  us  therefore  freely,  and  without  fear  or  preju- 
dice, examine  this  last  contrivance  of  policy.  And  without 
considering  how  near  the  quick  our  instruments  may  come, 
let  us  search  it  to  the  bottom. 

First  then,  all  men  are  agreed  that  this  junction  of  regal, 
aristocratick,  and  popular  power,  must  form  a  very  complex, 
nice,  and  intricate  machine,  which  being  composed  of  such 
a  variety  of  parts,  with  such  opposite  tendencies  and  move- 
ments, it  must  be  liable  on  every  accident  to  be  disordered. 
To  speak  without  metaphor,  such  a  government  must  be  lia- 
ble to  frequent  cabals,  tumults,  and  revolutions,  from  its  very 
constitution.  These  are  undoubtedly  as  ill  effects  as  can 
happen  in  a  society  ;  for  in  such  a  case,  the  closeness  acquir- 
ed by  community,  instead  of  serving  for  mutual  defence, 
serves  only  to  increase  the  danger.  Such  a  system  is  like  a 
city,  where  trades  that  require  constant  fires  are  much  exer- 
cised, where  the  houses  are  built  of  combustible  materials, 
and  where  they  stand  extremely  close. 

La  the  second  place,  the  several  constituent  parts  having 
their  distinct  rights,  and  these  many  of  them  so  necessary 
to  be  determined  with  exactness,  are  yet  so  indeterminate 
in  their  nature,  that  it  becomes  a  new  and  constant  source  of 
debate  and  confusion.  Hence  it  is,  that  whilst  the  business 
of  government  should  be  carrying  on,  the  question  is.  Who 
has  a  right  to  exercise  this  or  that   function  of  it,  or  what 


NATURAL    SOCIETY.  37 

men  have  power  to  keep  their  offices  in  any  function? 
"Whilst  this  contest  continues,  and  whilst  the  balance  in  any 
sort  continues,  it  has  never  any  remission  •,  all  manner  of  abuses 
and  villanies  in  officers  remain  unpunished ;  the  greatest 
frauds  and  robberies  in  the  publick  revenues  are  committed 
in  defiance  of  justice  ;  and  abuses  grow,  by  time  and  impu- 
nity, into  customs  ;  until  they  prescribe  against  the  laws,  and 
grow  too'  inveterate  often  to  admit  a  cure,  unless  such  as  may 
be  as  bad  as  the  disease. 

Thirdly,  the  several  parts  of  this  species  of  government, 
though  united,  preserve  the  spirit  which  each  form  has  sep- 
arately. Kings  are  ambitious ;  the  nobility  haughty ;  and 
the  populace  tumultuous  and  ungovernable.  Each  party, 
however,  in  appearance  peaceable,  carries  on  a  design  upon 
the  others  •,  and  it  is  owing  to  this,  that  in  all  questions, 
whether  concerning  foreign  or  domestick  affairs,  the  whole 
generally  turns  more  upon  some  party-matter  than  upon  the 
nature  of  the  thing  itself;  whether  such  a  step  will  diminifli 
or  augment  the  power  of  the  crown,  or  how  far  the  privi- 
leges of  the  subject  are  like  to  be  extended  or  restricted  by 
it.  And  these  questions  are  constantly  resolved,  without 
any  consideration  of  the  merits  of  the  cause,  merely  as  the 
parties  who  uphold  these  jarring  interests  may  chance  to  pre- 
vail ;  and  as  they  prevail,  the  balance  is  overset,  now  upon 
one  side,  now  upon  the  other.  The  government  is  one  day, 
arbitrary  power  in  a  single  person  ;  another,  a  juggling  con- 
federacy of  a  few  to  cheat  the  prince  and  enslave  the  people  ; 
and  the  third,  a  frantick  and  unmanageable  democracy. 
The  great  instrument  of  all  these  changes,  and  what  infuses 
a  peculiar  venom  into  all  of  them,  is  party.  It  is  of  no  con- 
sequence what  the  principles  of  any  party,  or  what  their  pre- 
tensions are  ;  the  spirit  which  actuates  all  parties  is  the 
same  ;  the  spirit  of  ambition,  of  self-interest,  of  oppression, 
and  treachery.  This  spirit  entirely  reverses  all  the  princi- 
ples which  a  benevolent  nature  has  erected  within  us  ;  all 
honesty,  all  equal  justice,  and  even  the  ties  of  natural  socie- 
ty, the  natural  affections.  In  a  word,  my  Lord,  we  have  all  seen^ 
and  if  any  outward  considerations  were  worthy  the  lasting  con- 
cern of  a  wise  man,  we  have  some  of  us  fclty  such  oppression 


dS  A  VINDICATION  OF 

from  party  government  as  no  other  tyranny  can  parallel.     We 
behold  daily  the  most  important  rights,  rights  upon  which. all 
the  others  depend,  we  behold  these  rights  determined  in  the 
last  resort,  without  the  least  attention  even  to  the  appearance 
or  colour  of  justice  ;  we  behold  this  without  emotion,  because 
we  have  grown  up  in  the  constant  view  of  such  practices  j 
and  we  are  not  surprised  to  hear  a  man  requested  to  be  a 
knave  and  a  traitor,  with  as  much  indifference  as  if  the  most 
ordinary  favour  were  asked  ;  and  we  hear  this  request  refu- 
sed, not  because  it  is  a  most  unjust  and  unreasonable  desire, 
but  that  this  worthy  has  already  engaged  his  injustice  to  an- 
other.    These  and  many  more  points  I  am  far  from  spread- 
ing to  their  full  extent.     You  are  sensible  that  I  do  not  put 
forth  half  my  strength  ;  and  you  cannot  be  at  a  loss  for  the 
reason.     A  man  is  allowed   sufficient   freedom   of  thought, 
provided  he  knows  how  to  choose  his  subject  properly.     You 
may  criticise  freely  upon  the  Chinese  constitution,  and  ob- 
serve with  as  much  severity  as  you  please  upon  the  absurd 
tricks,  or  destructive  bigotry  of  the  bonzees.     But  the  scene 
is  changed  as  you  come   homeward,  and  atheism  or  treason 
may  be  the  names  given  in  Britain,  to  what  would  be  reason 
and  truth  if  asserted  of  China.     I  submit  to  the   condition, 
and  though  I  have  a  notorious  advantage  before  me,  I  wave 
the  pursuit.     For  else,  my  Lord,  it  is  very  obvious  what  a 
picture  might  be  drawn  of  the  excesses  of  party  even  in  our 
own  nation.     I  could  shew,  that  the  same  faction  has  in  one 
reign  promoted  popular  seditions,  and   in  the  next  been  a 
patron  of  tyranny ;  I  could  shew,  that  they  have  all  of  them 
betrayed  the  publick   safety  at  all  times,  and  have  very  fre- 
quently with  equal  perfidy  made  a  market   of  their   own 
cause,  and  their  own  associates.    I  could  shew  how  vehemently 
they  have  contended  for  names,  and  how  silently  they  have  pas- 
sed over  things  of  the  last  importance.     And  I  could  demon- 
strate, that  they  have  had  the   opportunity  of  doing  all  this 
mischief,  nay,  that  they  themselves  had  their   origin   and 
growth  from  that  complex  form  of  government,  which  we  are 
wisely  taught  to  look  upon  as  so  great  a  blessing.    Revolve,  my 
Lord,  our  history  from  the  conquest.     We  scarce   ever  had 
a  prince,  who  by  fraud,  or  violence,  had  not  made  some  in- 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  f,^ 

fringement  on  the  constitution.  We  scarce  ever  had  a  par* 
liament  which  knew,  when  it  attempted  to  set  hmits  to  the 
royal  authority,  how  to  set  Hmits  to  its  own.  Evils  we  have 
had  continually  calling  for  reformation,  and  reformations 
more  grievous  than  any  evils.  Our  boasted  liberty  some- 
times trodden  down,  sometimes  giddily  set  up,  and  ever  pre- 
cariously fluctuating  and  unsettled ;  it  has  only  been  kept 
alive  by  the  blasts  of  continual  feuds,  wars  and  conspiracies. 
In  no  country  in  Europe  has  the  scaffold  so  often  blushed 
with  the  blood  of  its  nobility.  Confiscations,  banishments, 
attainders,  executions,  make  a  large  part  of  the  history  of 
such  of  our  families  as  are  not  utterly  extinguished  by  them. 
Formerly  indeed  things  had  a  more  ferocious  appearance 
than  they  have  at  this  day.  In  these  early  and  unrefined 
ages,  the  jarring  parts  of  a  certain  chaotick  constitution  sup- 
ported their  several  pretensions  by  the  sword.  Experience 
and  policy  have  since  taught  other  methods. 

^t  nunc  res  agitur  tenm  pulmone  rubeta. 

But  how  far  corruption,  venality,  the  contempt  of  honour, 
the  oblivion  of  all  duty  to  our  country,  and  the  most  aban- 
doned publick  prostitution,  are  preferable  to  the  more  glar- 
ing and  violent  effects  of  faction,  I  will  not  presume  to  de- 
termine.    Sure  I  am  that  they  are  very  great  evils. 

I  have  done  with  the  forms  of  government.  During  the 
course  of  my  enquiry  you  may  have  observed  a  very  material 
difference  between  my  manner  of  reasoning  and  that  which 
is  in  use  amongst  the  abettors  of  artificial  society.  They 
form  their  plans  upon  v/bat  seems  most  eligible  to  their  im- 
aginations, for  the  ordering  of  mankind.  I  discover  the 
mistakes  in  those  plans,  from  the  real  known  consequences 
which  have  resulted  from  them.  They  have  inlifled  reason 
to  fight  against  itself,  and  employ  its  whole  force  to  prove 
that  it  is  an  insufficient  guide  to  them  in  the  conduct  of  their 
lives.  But  unhappily  for  us,  in  proportion  as  we  have  devi- 
ated from  the  plain  rule  of  our  nature,  and  turned  our  reason 
against  itself,  in  that  proportion  have  we  increased  the  follies 
and  miseries  of  mankind.     The  more  deeply  we  penetrate 


4,0  A  VINDICATION  Or 

into  the  labyrinth  of  art,  the  further  we  find  ourselves  from 
those  ends  for  which  we  entered  it.  This  has  happened,  in 
almost  every  species  of  artificial  society,  and  in  all  times. 
We  found,  or  we  thought  we  found,  an  inconvenience  in 
having  every  man  the  judge  of  his  own  cause.  Therefore 
judges  were  set  up,  at  first  with  discretionary  powers.  But 
it  was  soon  found  a  miserable  slavery  to  have  our  lives  and 
properties  precarious,  and  hanging  upon  the  arbitrary  deter- 
mination of  any  one  man,  or  set  of  men.  We  flew  to  laws 
as  a  remedy  for  this  evil.  By  these  We  persuaded  ourselves 
we  might  know  with  some  certainty  upon  what  ground  we 
stood.  But  lo  !  differences  arose  upon  the  sense  and  inter- 
pretation of  these  laws.  Thus  we  were  brought  back  to  our 
old  incertitude.  New  laws  were  made  to  expound  the  old  ; 
and  new  difficulties  arose  upon  the  new  laws  •,  as  words  mul- 
tiplied, opportunities  of  cavilling  upon  them  multiplied  also. 
Then  recourse  was  had  to  notes,  comments,  glosses,  reports, 
responsa  prudentunty  learned  readings  :  eagle  stood  against  ea- 
gle :  authority  was  set  up  against  authority.  Some  were 
allured  by  the  modern,  others  reverenced  the  antlent.  The 
new  were  more  enlightened,  the  old  were  more  venerable. 
Some  adopted  the  comment,  others  stuck  to  the  text.  The 
confusion  increased,  the  mist  thickened,  until  it  could  be  dis- 
covered no  longer  what  was  allowed  or  forbidden,  what 
things  were  in  property,  and  what  common.  In  this  uncer- 
tainty, (uncertain  even  to  the  professors,  an  Egyptian  dark- 
ness to  the  rest  of  mankind)  the  contending  parties  felt  them- 
selves more  effectually  ruined  by  the  delay  than  they  could 
have  been  by  the  injustice  of  any  decision.  Our  inheritances 
are  become  a  prize  for  disputation  ;  and  disputes  and  litiga- 
tions are  become  an  Inheritance. 

The  professors  of  artlfical  law  have  always  walked  hand 
in  hand  with  the  professors  of  artificial  theology.  As  their 
end,  in  confounding  the  reason  of  man,  and  abridging  his 
natural  freedom,  is  exactly  the  same,  they  have  adjusted  the 
means  to  that  end  in  a  way  entirely  similar.  The  divine 
thunders  out  his  anathemas  with  more  noise  and  terrour  a- 
galnst  the  breach  of  one  of  his  positive  Institutions,  or  the 
neglect  of  some  of  his  trivial  forms,  than  against  the  neglect 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  41 

or  breach  of  those  duties  and  commandments  of  natural  re- 
ligion, which  by  these  forms  and  institutions  he  pretends  to 
enforce.  The  lawyer  has  his  forms,  and  his  positive  institu- 
tions too,  and  he  adheres  to  them  with  a  veneration  alto- 
gether as  religious.  The  worst  cause  cannot  be  so  prejudi- 
cial to  the  litigant,  as  his  advocate's  or  attorney's  ignorance 
or  neglect  of  these  forms.  A  law-suit  is  like  an  ill-managed 
dispute,  in  which  the  first  object  is  soon  out  of  sight,  and 
the  parties  end  upon  a  matter  wholly  foreign  to  that  on 
which  they  began.  In  a  law-suit  the  question  is,  Avho  has  a 
right  to  a  certain  house  or  farm  ?  And  this  question  is  daily 
determined,  not  upon  the  evidence  of  the  right,  but  upon  the 
observance  or  neglect  of  some  forms  of  words  in  use  with  the 
gentlemen  of  the  robe,  about  which  there  is  even  amongst 
themselves  such  a  disagreement,  that  the  most  experienced 
veterans  in  the  profession  can  never  be  positively  assured  that 
they  are  not  mistaken. 

Let  us  expostulate  with  these  learned  sages,  these  priests 
of  the  sacred  temple  of  justice.  Are  we  judges  of  our  own 
property  ?  By  no  means.  You  then,  who  are  initiated  into 
the  mysteries  of  the  blindfold  goddess,  inform  me  whether  I 
have  a  right  to  eat  the  bread  I  have  earned  by  the  hazard  of 
my  life,  or  the  sweat  of  my  brow  ?  The  grave  doctor  answers 
me  in  the  affirmative  ;  the  reverend  serjeant  replies  in  the 
negative  ;  the  learned  barrister  reasons  upon  one  side  and 
upon  the  other,  and  concludes  nothing.  What  shall  I  do  ? 
An  antagonist  starts  up  and  presses  me  hard.  I  enter  the 
field,  and  retain  these  three  persons  to  defend  my  cause. 
My  cause,  which  two  farmers  from  the  plough  could  have 
decided  in  half  an  hour,  takes  the  court  twenty  years.  I 
am  however  at  the  end  of  my  labour,  and  have  in  reward 
for  all  my  toil  and  vexation,  a  judgment  in  my  favour.  But 
hold — a  sagacious  commander,  in  the  adversary's  army,  has 
found  a  flaw  in  the  proceeding.  My  triumph  is  turned  into 
mourning.  I  have  used  or,  instead  of  andy  or  some  mis- 
take, small  in  appearance,  but  dreadful  in  its  consequences, 
and  have  the  whole  of  my  success  quashed  in  a  writ  of  er- 
rour.  I  remove  my  suit  ;  I  shift  from  court  to  court ;  I 
fly  from  equity  to  law,  and  from  law  to  equity  j  equal  un- 

VoL.  I.  H 


42  A  VINDICATION  or 

certainty  attends  me  every  where  ;  and  a  mistake  in  which 
I  had  no  share,  decides  at  once  upon  my  hberty  and  proper- 
ty, sending  me  from  the  court  to  a  prison,  and  adjudging 
my  family  to  beggary  and  famine.  I  am  innocent,  gentle- 
men, of  the  darkness  and  uncertainty  of  your  science.  I 
never  darkened  it  with  absurd  and  contradictory  notions,  nor 
confounded  it  with  chichane  and  sophistry.  You  have  ex- 
cluded me  from  any  share  in  the  conduct  of  my  own  cause ; 
the  science  was  too  deep  for  me  ;  I  acknowledged  it  ;  but 
it  was  too  deep  even  for  yourselves  :  you  have  made  the 
way  so  intricate,  that  you  are  yourselves  lost  in  it  ;  you  err, 
and  you  punish  me  for  your  errours. 

The  delay  of  the  law  is,  your  Lordship  will  tell  me,  a 
trite  topick,  and  which  of  its  abuses  have  not  been  too  se- 
verely felt  not  to  be  complained  of  ?  A  man's  property  is  to 
serve  for  the  purposes  of  his  support ;  and  therefore  to  de- 
lay a  determination  concerning  that,  is  the  worst  injustice, 
because  it  cuts  ofF  the  very  end  and  purpose  for  which  I  ap- 
plied to  the  judicature  for  relief.  Quite  contrary  in  the 
case  of  a  man's  life  ;  there  the  determination  can  hardly  be 
too  much  protracted.  Mistakes  in  this  case  are  as  often 
fallen  into  as  many  other,  and  if  the  judgment  is  sudden, 
the  mistakes  are  the  most  irretrievable  of  all  others.  Of 
this  the  gentlemen  of  the  robe  are  themselves  sensible,  and 
they  have  brought  it  into  a  maxim.  De  morte  hominis  nulla 
est  cunctatio  longa.  But  what  could  have  induced  them  to 
reverse  the  rules,  and  to  contradict  that  reason  which  dic- 
tated them,  I  am  utterly  unable  to  guess.  A  point  concern- 
ing property,  which  ought,  for  the  reasons  I  just  mentioned, 
to  be  most  speedily  decided,  frequently  exercises  the  wit  of 
successions  of  lawyers,  for  many  generations.  Multa  virum 
volvens  durando  sacula  vincit.  But  the  question  concerning 
a  man's  life,  that  great  question  in  which  no  delay  ought  to 
be  counted  tedious,  is  commonly  determined  in  twenty-four 
hours  at  the  utmost.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  in- 
justice and  absurdity  should  be  inseparable  companions. 

Ask  of  politicians  the  end  for  which  laws  were  originally 
designed  ;  and  they  will  answer,  that  the  laws  were  design- 
ed as  a  protection  for  the  poor  and  weak,  against  the  oppres- 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  43 

sion  of  the  rich  and  powerful.  But  surely  no  pretence  can 
be  so  ridiculous  5  a  man  might  as  well  tell  me  he  has  taken 
off  my  load,  because  he  has  changed  the  burden.  If  the 
poor  man  is  not  able  to  support  his  suit,  according  to  the 
vexatious  and  expensive  manner  established  in  civilized 
countries,  has  not  the  rich  as  great  an  advantage  over  him 
as  the  strong  has  over  the  weak  in  a  state  of  nature  ?  But 
we  will  not  place  the  state  of  nature,  which  is  the  reign  of 
God,  in  competition  with  political  society,  Avhich  is  the  ab- 
surd usurpation  of  man.  In  a  state  of  nature,  it  is  true, 
that  a  man  of  superiour  force  may  beat  or  rob  me  ;  but  then 
it  is  true,  that  I  am  at  full  liberty  to  defend  myself,  or  make 
reprisal  by  surprise  or  by  cunning,  or  by  any  other  way  in 
which  I  may  be  superiour  to  him.  But  in  political  society, 
a  rich  man  may  rob  me  in  another  way.  I  cannot  defend 
myself ;  for  money  is  the  only  weapon  with  which  we  are 
allowed  to  fight.  And  if  I  attempt  to  avenge  myself,  the 
whole  force  of  that  society  is  ready  to  complete  my  ruin. 

A  good  parson  once  said,  that  where  mystery  begins,  re- 
ligion ends.  Cannot  I  say,  as  truly  at  least,  of  human  laws, 
that  where  mystery  begins,  justice  ends  ?  It  is  hard  to  say, 
whether  the  doctors  of  law  or  divinity  have  made  the  great- 
er advances  in  the  lucrative  business  of  mystery.  The  law- 
yers, as  well  as  the  theologians,  have  erected  another  reason 
besides  natural  reason  ;  and  the  result  has  been,  another 
justice  besides  natural  justice.  They  have  so  bewildered 
the  world  and  themselves  in  unmeaning  forms  and  ceremo- 
nies, and  so  perplexed  the  plainest  matters  with  metaphysic- 
al jargon,  that  it  carries  the  highest  danger  to  a  man  out  of 
that  profession,  to  make  the  least  step  without  their  advice 
and  assistance.  Thus  by  confining  to  themselves  the  knowl^- 
edge  of  the  foundation  of  all  men's  lives  and  properties, 
they  have  reduced  all  mankind  into  the  most  abject  and  ser- 
vile dependence.  We  are  tenants  at  the  will  of  these  gen- 
tlemen for  every  thing  •,  and  a  metaphysical  quibble  is  to 
decide  whether  the  greatest  villain  breathing  shall  meet  his 
deserts,  or  escape  with  impunity,  or  whether  the  best  man 
in  the  society  shall  not  be  reduced  to  the  lowest  and  most 
despicable  condition  it  affords.     In  a  word,  my   Lord,  the 


44.  A  VINDICAl'ION  OF 

injustice,  delay,  puerility,  false  refinement,  and  affected 
mystery  of  the  law  are  such,  that  many  who  live  under  it 
come  to  admire  and  envy  the  expedition,  simplicity,  and 
equality  of  arbitrary  judgments.  I  need  insist  the  less  on 
this  article  to  your  Lordship,  as  you  have  frequently  lament-^ 
ed  the  miseries  derived  to  us  from  artificial  law,  and  your 
candour  is  the  more  to  be  admired  and  applauded  in  this,  as 
your  Lordship's  noble  house  has  derived  its  wealth  and  its 
honours  from  that  profession. 

Before  we  finish  our  examination  of  artificial  society,  I 
shall  lead  your  Lordship  into  a  closer  consideration  of  the 
relations  which  it  gives  birth  to,  and  the  benefits,  if  such 
they  are,  which  result  from  these  relations.  The  most  ob- 
vious division  of  society  i?  into  rich  and  poor  j  and  it  is  no 
less  obvious,  that  the  number  of  the  former  bear  a  great  dis- 
proportion to  those  of  the  latter.  The  whole  business  of 
the  poor  is  to  administer  to  the  idleness,  folly,  and  luxury 
of  the  rich  •,  and  that  of  the  rich,  in  return,  is  to  find  the 
best  methods  of  confirming  the  slavery  and  increasing  the 
burdens  of  the  poor.  In  a  state  of  nature,  it  is  an  invaria- 
ble law,  tliat  a  man's  acquisitions  are  in  proportion  to  his 
labours.  In  a  state  of  artificial  society,  it  is  a  law  as  con- 
stant and  as  invariable,  that  those  who  labour  most,  enjoy 
the  fewest  things ;  and  that  those  who  labour  not  at  all,  have 
the  greatest  number  of  enjoyments.  A  constitution  of  things 
this,  strange  and  ridiculous  beyond  expression.  We  scarce 
believe  a  thing  when  we  are  told  it,  which  we  actually  see 
before  our  eyes  every  day  without  being  in  the  least  surpris- 
ed. I  suppose  that  there  are  in  Great-Britain  upwards  of  an 
hundred  thousand  people  employed  in  lead,  tin,  iron,  copper, 
and  coal  mines ;  these  unhappy  wretches  scarce  ever  see  the 
light  of  the  sun  j  they  are  buried  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  ; 
there  they  work  at  a  severe  and  dismal  task,  without  the  least 
prospect  of  being  delivered  from  it ;  they  subsist  upon  the 
coarsest  and  worst  sort  of  fare  j  they  have  their  health  mise- 
rably impaired,  and  their  lives  cut  short,  by  being  perpetual- 
ly confined  in  the  close  vapour  of  these  malignant  minerals. 
An  hundred  thousand  more  at  least  are  tortured  without  re- 
mission by  the  suffocating  smoke,  intense  fires,  and  constant 


NATURAL  SOCIETY-.  45 

drudgery  necessary  in  refining  and  managing  the  products 
of  those  mines.     If  any  man  informed  us  that  two  hundred 
thousand  innocent  persons  were  condemned  to  so  intolerable 
slavery,  hov/  should  we  pity  the  unhappy  sufferers,  and  how 
great  would  be   our  just  indignation  against  those  who  in- 
flicted so  cruel  and  ignominious  a  punishment !     This  is  an 
instance,  I  could  not  wish  a  stronger,  of  the    numberless 
things  which  we  pass  by  in  their  common  dress,  yet  which 
shock  us  w^hen  they  are  nakedly  represented.     But  this  num- 
ber, considerable  as  it  is,  and  the  slavery,  with  all  its  baseness 
and  horrour,  which  we  have  at  home,  is  nothing  to  what  the 
rest  of  the  world  affords  of  the  same  nature.     Millions  daily 
bathed  in  the  poisonous   damps   and  destructive   effluvia  of 
lead,  silver,  copper,  and  arsenick.     To  say  nothing  of  those 
other  employments,  those  stations  of  wretchedness  and  con- 
tempt, in  which  civil  society  has  placed  the  numerous  enfans 
perdus  of  her  army.     Would  any  rational  man  submit  to  one 
of  the  most  tolerable  of  these  drudgeries,  for  all  the  artificial 
enjoyments  which  policy  has  made  to  result  from  them  ?  By 
no  means.     And  yet  need  I  suggest  to  your  Lordship,  that 
those  who  find  the  means,  and  those  who  arrive  at  the  end, 
are  not  at  all  the  same  persons.     On  considering  the  strange 
and  unaccountable  fancies  and  contrivances  of  artificial  rea- 
son, I  have  somewhere  called  this  earth  the  Bedlam  of  our 
system.     Looking  now  upon  the  effects   of  some    of  thos6 
fancies,  may  we  not  with  equal  reason  call  it   likewise  the 
Newgate  and  the  Bridewell  of  the  universe  ?     Indeed  the 
blindness  of  one  part  of  mankind  co-operating  with  the  fren- 
zy and  villany  of  the  other,  has  been  the  real  builder  of  this 
respectable  fabrick  of  political  society  :  and  as  the  blindness 
of  mankind  has  caused  their  slavery,  in  return  their  state  of 
slavery  is  made  a  pretence  for  continuing  them  in  a  state  of 
blindness ;  for  the  politician  will  tell  you  gravely,  that  their 
life  of  servitude  disqualifies  the  greater  part  of  the  race  of 
man  for  a  search  of  truth,  and  supplies  them  with  no  other 
than  mean  and  insufficient  ideas.     This  is  but  too  true  ;  and 
this  is  one  of  the  reasons  for  which  I  blame  such  institutions. 
In  a  misery  of  this  sort,  admitting  some  few  lenitives,  and 
those  too  but  a  few,  nine  parts  in  ten  of  the  whole  race  of 


46  A  VINDICATION  OF 

mankind  drudge  through  hfe.  It  may  be  urged  perhaps,  in 
palliation  of  this,  that,  at  least,  the  rich  few  lind  a  considera- 
ble and  real  benefit  from  the  wretchedness  of  the  many.  But 
is  this  so  in  fact  ?  Let  us  examine  the  point  with  a  little 
more  attention.  For  this  purpose  the  rich  in  all  societies 
may  be  thrown  into  two  classes.  The  first  is  of  those  who 
are  powerful  as  well  as  rich,  and  conduct  the  operations  of 
the  vast  political  machine.  The  other  is  of  those  who  em- 
ploy their  riches  wholly  in  the  acquisition  of  pleasure.  As 
to  the  first  sort,  their  continual  care,  and  anxiety,  their  toil- 
some days,  and  sleepless  nights,  are  next  to  proverbial. 
These  circumstances  are  sufficient  almost  to  level  their  con- 
dition to  that  of  the  unhappy  majority ;  but  there  are  other 
circumstances  which  place  them  in  a  far  lower  condition. 
Not  only  their  understandings  labour  continually,  which  is 
the  severest  labour,  but  their  hearts  are  torn  by  the  worst, 
most  troublesome,  and  insatiable  of  all  passions,  by  avarice, 
by  ambition,  by  fear  and  jealousy.  No  part  of  the  mind  has 
rest.  Power  gradually  extirpates  from  the  mind  every  hu- 
mane and  gentle  virtue.  Pity,  benevolence,  friendship,  are 
things  almost  unknown  in  high  stations.  Vera  amicitia  ra- 
rissime  invenluntur  in  iis  qui  in  hotioribits  rcque  publica  versan- 
tury  says  Cicero.  And  indeed,  courts  are  the  schools  where 
cruelty,  pride,  dissimulation  and  treachery  are  studied  and 
taught  in  the  most  vicious  perfection.  This  is  a  point  so 
clear  and  acknowledged,  that  if  it  did  not  make  a  necessary 
part  of  my  subject,  I  should  pass  it  by  entirely.  And  this 
has  hindered  me  from  drawing  at  full  length,  and  in  the 
most  striking  colours,  this  shocking  picture  of  the  degenera- 
cy and  wretchedness  of  human  nature,  in  that  part  which  is 
vulgarly  thought  its  happiest  and  most  amiable  state.  You 
know  from  what  originals  I  could  copy  such  pictures.  Hap- 
py are  they  who  know  enough  of  them  to  know  the  little 
value  of  the  possessors  of  such  things,  and  of  all  that  they 
possess ;  and  happy  they  who  have  been  snatched  from  that 
post  of  danger  which  they  occupy,  with  the  remains  of  their 
virtue ;  loss  of  honours,  wealth,  titles,  and  even  the  loss  of 
one's  country,  is  nothing  in  balance  with  so  great  an  ad- 
vantage. 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  47 

Let  us  now  view  the  other  species  of  the  rich,  those  who 
devote  their  time  and  fortunes  to  idleness  and  pleasure. 
How  much  happier  are  they  ?  The  pleasures  which  are 
agreeable  to  nature  are  within  the  reach  of  all,  and  there- 
fore can  form  no  distinction  in  favour  of  the  rich.  The 
pleasures  which  art  forces  up  are  seldom  sincere,  and  never 
satisfying.  What  is  worse,  this  constant  application  to  pleas- 
ure takes  away  from  the  enjoyment,  or  rather  turns  it  into 
the  nature  of  a  very  burdensome  and  laborious  business.  It 
has  consequences  much  more  fatal.  It  produces  a  weak  val- 
etudinary state  of  body,  attended  by  all  those  horrid  disorders, 
and  yet  more  horrid  methods  of  cure,  which  are  the  result  of 
luxury  on  one  hand,  and  the  weak  and  ridiculous  efforts  of  hu- 
man art  on  the  other.  The  pleasures  of  such  men  are  scarcely 
felt  as  pleasures  •,  at  the  same  time  that  they  bring  on  pains  and 
diseases,  which  are  felt  but  too  severely.  The  mind  has  its 
share  of  the  misfortune  ;  it  grows  lazy  and  enervate,  unwilling 
and  unable  to  search  for  truth,  and  utterly  uncapable  of  know- 
ing, much  less  of  relishing  real  happiness.  The  poor  by  their 
excessive  labour,  and  the  rich  by  their  enormous  luxury,  are  set 
upon  a  level,  and  rendered  equally  ignorant  of  any  knowledge 
which  might  conduce  to  their  happiness.  A  dismal  view  of 
the  interiour  of  all  civil  society  !  The  lower  part  broken 
and  ground  down  by  the  most  cruel  oppression ;  and  the 
rich  by  their  artificial  method  of  life  bringing  worse  evils  on 
themselves,  than  their  tyranny  could  possibly  inflict  on  those 
below  them.  Very  different  is  the  prospect  of  the  natural 
state.  Here  there  are  no  wants  which  nature  gives,  and  in 
this  state  men  can  be  sensible  of  no  other  wants,  which  are 
not  to  be  supplied  by  a  very  moderate  degree  of  labour ; 
therefore  there  is  no  slavery.  Neither  is  there  any  luxury, 
because  no  single  man  can  supply  the  materials  of  it.  Life 
is  simple,  and  therefore  it  is  happy. 

I  am  conscious,  my  Lord,  that  your  politician  will  urge  in 
his  defence,  that  this  unequal  state  is  highly  useful.  That 
without  dooming  some  part  of  mankind  to  extraordinary  toil, 
the  arts  which  cultivate  life  could  not  be  exercised.  But  I 
demand  of  this  politician,  how  such  arts  came  to  be  necessa- 
ry ?     He  answers,  that  civil  society  could  not  well  exist  with- 


4,8  <  .     A  VINDICATION  OF 

out  them.  So  that  these  arts  are  necessary  to  civil  society, 
and  civil  society  necessary  again  to  these  arts.  Thus  are  we 
running  in  a  circle,  without  modestVj  and  without  end,  and 
niakincj  one  errour  and  extravagance  an  excuse  for  the  other. 
My  sentiments  about  these  arts  and  their  cause,  I  have  often 
discoursed  with  my  friends  at  large.  Pope  has  expressed 
them  in  good  verse,  where  he  talks  with  so  much  force  of 
reason  and  elegance  of  language,  in  praise  of  the  state  of 
nature : 

Then  was  not  pride^  nor  arts  that  pride  to  aid, 
Man  walked  with  beast,  Joint-tenant  of  the  shade. 

On  the  whole,  my  Lord,  if  political  society,  in  whatever 
form,  has  still  made  the  many  the  property  of  the  few  ;  if  it 
has  introduced  labours  unnecessary,  vices  and  diseases  un- 
known, and  pleasures  incompatible  with  nature ;  if  in  all 
countries  it  abridges  the  lives  of  millions,  and  renders  those 
of  millions  more  utterly  abject  and  miserable,  shall  we  still 
worship  so  destructive  an  idol,  and  daily  sacrifice  to  it  our 
health,  our  liberty,  and  our  peace  ?  Or  shall  we  pass  by  this 
monstrous  heap  of  absurd  notions,  and  abominable  practices, 
thinking  we  have  sufficiently  discharged  our  duty  in  expos- 
ing the  trifling  cheats,  and  ridiculous  juggles  of  a  few  mad, 
designing,  or  ambitious  priests  ?  Alas !  my  Lord,  we  la- 
bour under  a  mortal  consumption,  whilst  we  are  so  anxious 
about  the  cure  of  a  fore  finger.  For  has  rot  this  leviathan 
of  civil  power  overflowed  the  earth  with  a  deluge  of  blood, 
as  if  he  were  made  to  disport  and  play  therein  ?  We  have 
shewn,  that  political  society,  on  a  moderate  calculation,  has 
been  the  means  of  murdering  several  times  the  number  of 
inhabitants  now  upon  the  earth,  during  its  short  existence, 
not  upwards  of  four  thousand  years  in  any  accounts  to  be  de- 
pended on.  But  we  have  said  nothing  of  the  other,  and 
perhaps  as  bad  consequence  of  these  wars,  which  have  spill- 
ed such  seas  of  blood,  and  reduced  so  many  millions  to  a 
merciless  slavery.  But  these  are  only  the  ceremonies  per- 
formed in  the  porch  of  the  political  temple.  Much  mort 
horrid  ones  are  seen  as  you  enter  it.    The  several  species  of 


NATURAL   SOCIETY.  49 

government  vie  with  each  other  in  the  absurdity  of  their 
constitutions,  and  the  oppression  which  they  make  their  sub- 
jects endure.     Take  them  under  what  form  you  please,  they 
are  in  effect  but   a  despotism,  and  they  fall,  both  in  effect 
and  appearance  too,  after  a  very  short  period,  into  that  cruel 
and  detestable  species  of  tyranny  -,  v^hich  I  rather  call  it,  be- 
cause we  have  been  educated  under  another  form,  than  that 
this  is  of  worse  consequences  to  mankind.     For  the  free 
governments,  for  the  point  of  their  space,  and  the  moment 
of  their  duration,  have  felt  more   confusion,  and  committed 
more  flagrant  acts  of  tyranny,  than  the  most  perfect  despot- 
ick  governments  which  We  have  ever  known.     Turn  your 
eye  next  to  the  labyrinth  of  the  law,  and  the  iniquity  con- 
ceived in  its  intricate  recesses.     Consider  the  ravages  com- 
mitted in  the  bowels  of  all  commonwealths  by  ambition,  by 
avarice,  envy,  fraud,  open   injustice,  and   pretended   friend- 
ship ;  vices  which  could  draw  little  suppqrt  from  a   state   of 
nature,  but  which  blossom  and  flourish   in  the   rankness  of 
political  society.     Revolve  our  whole  discourse  ;  add  to  it  all 
those  reflections  which  your  own  good  understanding  shall 
suggest,  and  make   a  strenuous   effort   beyond  the  reach  of 
vulgar  philosophy,  to  confess  that  the  cause  of  artificial  soci- 
ety is  more  defenceless  even  than  that  of  artificial  religion  5 
that  it  is  as  derogatory  from  the  honour   of  the   Creator,  as 
subversive  of  human  reason,  and  productive    of  infinitely 
more  mischief  to  the  human  race. 

If  pretended  revelations  have  caused  wars  where  they 
were  opposed,  and  slavery  where  they  were  received,  the 
pretended  vpise  inventions  of  politicians  have  done  the  same. 
But  the  slavery  has  been  much  heavier,  the  wars  far  more 
bloody,  and  both  more  universal  by  many  degrees.  Shew 
me  any  mischief  produced  by  the  madness  or  wickedness  of 
theologians,  and  I  will  shew  you  an  hundred,  resulting  from 
the  ambition  and  villany  of  conquerors  and  statesmen. 
Shew  me  an  absurdity  in  religion,  and  I  will  undertake  to 
shew  you  an  hundred  for  one  in  political  laws  and  institu- 
tions. If  you  say,  that  natural  religion  is  a  sufficient  guide 
without  the  foreign  aid  of  revelation,  on  what  principle 
should  political  laws  become  necessary  ?  Is  not  the  same 
Vol.  I.  I 


50  A  VINDICATION  OF 

reason  available  in  theology  and  In  politicks  ?  If  the  laws  of 
nature  are  the  laws  of  God,  is  it  consistent  with  the  divine 
wisdom  to  prescribe  rules  to  us,  and  leave  the  enforcement 
of  them  to  the  folly  of  human  institutions  ?  Will  you  fol- 
low truth  but  to  a  certain  point  ? 

We  are  indebted  for  all  our  miseries  to  our  distrust  of 
that  guide,  which  Providence  thought  sufficient  for  our  con- 
dition, our  own  natural  reason,  which  rejecting  both  in  hu- 
man and  divine  things,  we  have  given  our  necks  to  the  yoke 
of  political  and  theological  slavery.  We  have  renounced 
the  prerogative  of  man,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  we  should 
be  treated  like  beasts.  But  our  misery  is  much  greater  than 
theirs,  as  the  crime  we  commit  in  rejecting  the  lawful  do- 
minion of  our  reason  is  greater  than  any  which  they  can 
commit.  If  after  all,  you  should  confess  all  these  things, 
yet  plead  the  necessity  of  political .  institutions,  weak  and 
wicked  as  they  are,  I  can  argue  with  equal,  perhaps  superi- 
our  force  concerning  the  necessity  of  artificial  religion  ;  and 
every  step  you  advance  in  your  argument,  you  add  a  strength 
to  mine.  So  that  if  we  are  resolved  to  submit  our  reason 
and  our  liberty  to  civil  usurpation,  we  have  nothing  to  do 
but  to  conform  as  quietly  as  we  can  to  the  vulgar  notions 
which  are  connected  with  this,  and  take  up  the  theology  of 
the  vulgar  as  well  as  their  politicks.  But  if  we  think  this 
necessity  rather  imaginai*y  than  real,  we  should  renounce 
their  dreams  of  society,  together  with  their  visions  of  relig- 
ion, and  vindicate  ourselves  into  perfect  liberty. 

You  are,  my  Lord,  but  just  entering  into  the  world  ;  I 
am  going  out  of  it.  I  have  played  long  enough  to  be  heart- 
ily tired  of  the  drama.  Whether  I  have  acted  my  part  in  it 
well  or  ill,  posterity  will  judge  with  more  candour  than  I, 
or  than  the  present  age,  with  our  present  passions,  can  pos- 
sibly pretend  to.  For  my  part,  I  quit  it  without  a  sigh,  and 
submit  to  the  sovereign  order  without  murmuring.  The 
nearer  we  approach  to  the  goal  of  life,  the  better  we  begin 
to  understand  the  true  value  of  our  existence,  and  the  real 
weight  of  our  opinions.  We  set  out  much  in  love  with 
both  •,  but  we  leave  much  behind  us  as  we  advance.  We 
first  throw  away  the  tales  along  with  the  rattles  of  our  nurs- 


NATURAL  SOCIETY.  51 

es  ;  those  of  the  priest  keep  their  hold  a  Httle  longer ;  those 
of  our  governours  the  longest  of  all.  But  the  passions  which 
prop  these  opinions  are  withdrawn  one  after  another  j  and 
the  cool  light  of  reason  at  the  setting  of  our  life,  shews  us 
what  a  false  splendour  played  upon  these  objects  during  our 
more  sanguine  seasons.  Happy,  my  Lord,  if  instructed  by 
my  experience,  and  even  by  my  errours,  you  come  early  to 
make  such  an  estimate  of  things,  as  may  give  freedom  and 
ease  to  your  life.  I  am  happy  that  such  an  estimate  promises 
me  comfort  at  my  death. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY 


INTO    THE 


ORIGIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS 


OF    THE 


SUBLIME  AND  BEAUTIFUL. 


WITH 


AN  INTRODUCTORT  DISCOURSE 


CONCERNING 


TASTE, 


AND  SEVERAL  OTHER  ADDITIONS, 


PREFACE. 


1  HAVE  endeavoured  to  make  this  edition 
something  more  full  and  satisfactory  than  the  first.  I  have 
sought  with  the  utmost  care,  and  read  with  equal  attention, 
every  thing  which  has  appeared  in  publick  against  my  opinions ; 
I  have  taken  advantage  of  the  candid  liberty  of  my  friends ; 
and  if  by  these  means  I  have  been  better  enabled  to  discover 
the  imperfections  of  the  work,  the  indulgence  it  has  received, 
imperfect  as  it  was,  furnished  me  with  a  new  motive  to  spare 
no  reasonable  pains  for  its  improvement.  Though  I  have 
not  found  sufficient  reason,  or  what  appeared  to  me  sufficient, 
for  making  any  material  change  in  my  theory,  I  have  found 
necessary  in  many  places  to  explain,  illustrate,  and  enforce 
it.  I  have  prefixed  an  introductory  discourse  concerning 
Taste :  it  is  a  matter  curious  in  itself;  and  it  leads  naturally 
enough  to  the  principal  inquiry.  This,  with  the  other  ex- 
planations, has  made  the  work  considerably  larger ;  and  by 
increasing  its  bulk  has,  I  am  afraid,  added  to  its  faults ;  so 
that,  notwithstanding  all  my  attention,  it  may  stand  in  need 
of  a  yet  greater  share  of  indulgence  than  it  required  at  its 
first  appearance. 

They  who  are  accustomed  to  studies  of  this  nature  will 
expect,  and  they  will  allow  too  for  many  faults.  They  know- 
that  many  of  the  objects  of  our  inquiry  are  in  themselves 
obscure  and  intricate  ;  and  that  many  others  have  been  ren- 
tiered  so  by  affected  refinements  or  false  learning ;  they 
know  that  there  are  many  impediments  in  the  subject,  in  the 


^6  PREFACE. 

prejudices  of  others,  and  even  in  our  own,  that  render  it  a 
matter  of  no  small  difficulty  to  shew  in  a  clear  light  the  gen- 
uine face  of  nature.  They  know  that  whilst  the  mind  is  in- 
tent on  the  general  scheme  of  things,  some  particular  parts 
must  be  neglected ;  that  we  must  often  submit  the  style  to 
the  matter,  and  frequently  give  up  the  praise  of  elegance, 
satisfied  with  being  clear. 

The  characters  of  nature  are  legible,  it  is  true  •,  but  they 
are  not  plain  enough  to  enable  those  who  run,  to  read  them. 
We  must  make  use  of  a  cautious,  I  had  almost  said,  a  timo- 
rous method  of  proceeding.  "We  must  not  attempt  to  fly, 
when  we  can  scarcely  pretend  to  creep.  In  considering  any 
complex  matter,  we  ought  to  examine  every  distinct  ingredi- 
ent in  the  composition,  one  by  one  ;  and  reduce  every  thing 
to  the  utmost  simplicity ;  since  the  condition  of  our  nature 
binds  us  to  a  strict  law  and  very  narrow  limits.  We  ought 
afterwards  to  re-examine  the  principles  by  the  effect  of  the 
composition,  as  well  as  the  composition  by  that  of  the  prin- 
ciples. We  ought  to  compare  our  subject  with  things  of  a 
similar  nature,  and  even  with  things  of  a  contrary  nature  ; 
for  discoveries  may  be  and  often  are  made  by  the  contrast, 
which  would  escape  us  on  the  single  view.  The  greater 
number  of  the  comparisons  we  make,  the  more  general  and 
the  more  certain  our  knowledge  is  like  to  prove,  as  built 
upon  a  more  extensive  and  perfect  induction. 

If  an  inquiry  thus  carefully  conducted,  should  fail  at  last 
of  discovering  the  truth,  it  may  answer  an  end  perhaps  as 
useful,  in  discovering  to  us  the  weakness  of  our  own  under- 
standing. If  it  does  not  make  us  knowing,  it  may  make  us 
modest.  If  it  does  not  preserve  us  from  errour,  it  may  at 
least  from  the  spirit  of  errour  j  and  may  make  us  cautious  of 
pronouncing  with  positiveness  or  with  haste,  when  so  much 
labour  may  end  in  so  much  uncertainty. 

I  could  wish  that  in  examining  this  theory,  the  same  meth- 
od were  pursued  which  I  endeavoured  to  observe  in  forming 
it.  The  objections,  in  my  opinion,  ought  to  be  proposed, 
either  to  the  several  principles  as  they  are  distinctly  consid- 
ered, or  to  the  justness  of  the  conclusion  which  is  drawn 
from  them.     But  it  is  common  to  pass  over  both  the  premi- 


PREFACE.  57 

cs  and  conclusion  in  silence,  and  to  produce  as  an  objectionf 
some  poetical  passage  which  does  not  seem  easily  accounted 
for  upon  the  principles  I  endeavour  to  establish.  This  man- 
ner of  proceeding  I  should  think  very  improper.  The  task 
would  be  infinite,  if  we  could  establish  no  principle  until  we 
had  previously  unravelled  the  complex  texture  of  every  im- 
age or  description  to  be  found  in  poets  and  orators.  And 
though  we  should  never  be  able  to  reconcile  the  effect  of 
such  images  to  our  principles,  this  can  never  overturn  the 
theory  itself,  whilst  it  is  founded  on  certain  and  indisputable 
facts.  A  theory  founded  on  experiment,  and  not  assumed, 
is  always  good  for  so  much  as  it  explains.  Our  inability  to 
push  it  indefinitely  is  no  argument  at  all  against  it.  This  in- 
ability may  be  owing  to  our  ignorance  of  some  necessary  me- 
diums ;  to  a  want  of  proper  application  ;  to  many  other 
causes  besides  a  defect  in  the  principles  we  employ.  In  real- 
ity, the  subject  requires  a  much  closer  attention,  than  we 
dare  claim  from  our  manner  of  treating  it. 

If  it  should  not  appear  on  the  face  of  the  work,  I  must 
caution  the  reader  against  imagining  that  I  intended  a  full 
dissertation  on  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful.  My  inquiry  went 
no  farther  than  to  the  origin  of  these  ideas.  If  the  quali- 
ties which  I  have  ranged  under  the  head  of  the  Sublime  be 
all  found  consistent  with  each  other,  and  all  different  from 
those  which  I  place  under  the  head  of  beauty  ;  and  if  those 
which  compose  the  class  of  the  Beautiful  have  the  same  con- 
sistency with  themselves,  and  the  same  opposition  to  those 
which  are  classed  under  the  denomination  of  Sublime,  I  am 
in  little  pain  whether  any  body  chooses  to  follow  the  name  I 
give  them  or  not,  provided  he  allows  that  what  I  dispose  un- 
der different  heads  are  in  reality  different  things  in  nature. 
The  use  I  make  of  the  words  may  be  blamed,  as  too  confin- 
ed or  too  extended  •,  my  meaning  cannot  well  be  misunder- 
stood. 

To  conclude  ;  whatever  progress  may  be  made  towards 
the  discovery  of  truth  in  this  matter,  I  do  not  repent  the 
pains  I  have  taken  in  it.  The  use  of  such  inquiries  may  be 
very  considerable.  Whatever  turns  the  soul  inward  on  itself 
tends  to  concenter  its  forces, and  to  fit  it  for  greater  and  strong- 

Vol.  I,  K 


38  PREFACE. 

er  flights  of  science.  By  looking  into  physical  causes,  our 
minds  are  opened  and  enlarged  ;  and  in  this  pursuit,  whether 
we  take  or  whether  we  lose  our  game,  the  chace  is  certainly  of 
service.  Cicero,  true  as  he  was  to  the  academick  philosophy, 
and  consequently  led  to  reject  the  certainty  of  physical,  as 
of  every  other  kind  of  knowledge,  yet  freely  confesses  its 
great  importance  to  the  human  understanding  j  "  Est  atiimo- 
"  rum  ingemorumque  nostrorum  nuturale  quaddam  quasi  pabu- 
**  lum  consideratio  contemplat'ioque  natural  If  we  can  direct 
the  lights  we  derive  from  such  exalted  speculations,  upon  the 
humbler  field  of  the  imagination,  whilst  we  investigate  the 
springs,  and  trace  the  courses  of  our  passions,  we  may  not  only 
communicate  to  the  taste  a  sort  of  philosophical  solidity,  but 
we  may  reflect  back  on  the  severer  sciences  some  of  the  graces 
and  elegancies  of  taste,  without  which  the  greatest  proficiency 
in  those  sciences  will  always  have  the  appearance  of  something 
illiberal. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

A  Philosophical  Inquiry  into  the  Origin  of  our 

Ideas  of  the  Sublime  and  Beautiful        -         81 

[The  first  edition  of  this  work  was  published  in  1756 :  the  second, 
with  large  additions,  in  the  year  1757.] 

Introduction.     On  Taste  -  -  -  -         €3 

PART    I. 

SECT. 

I.     Novelty         ---_..  81 

II.     Pain  and  Pleasure         -         _         _         _  82 

III.  The  Difference  between  the  removal  of  Pain 

and  positive  Pleasure         -  -  -         84< 

IV.  Of  Delight  and  Pleasure,  as  opposed  to  each 

other         .--___  85 

V.     Joy  and  Grief 87 

VI.     Of  the  Passions  which  belong  to  Self-preser- 
vation        -         -         _          -          _  88 
VII.     Of  the  Sublime         -         -          -          -  ibid 
VIII.     Of  the  passions  which  belong  to  Society  89 
IX.     The  final  cause  of  the  difference  between  the 
Passions  belonging  to  self-preservation,  and 
those  which  regard  the  Society  of  the  sexes  90 

X.     Of  Beauty 91 

XI.     Society  and  Solitude         _         .         -         -  92 

XII.     Sympathy,  Imitation,  and  Ambition      -         -  93 

XIII.  Sympathy         ____--  ibid 

XIV.  The  effects  of  Sympathy  in  the  distresses  of 

others         ,____•       9<i 


60  CONTENTS. 

SECT.  PAGE 

XV.     Of  the  effects  of  Tragedy         -         .         -  96 

XVI.     Imitation 97 

XVII.  Ambition 99 

XVIII.  Recapitulation lOi) 

XIX.     The  Conclusion 101 

PART    II. 

I.     Of  the  Passion  caused  by  the  Sublime         -  105 

II.     Terrour         ------  ibid 

III.  Obscurity 106 

IV.  Of  the  difference  between  Clearness  and  Ob- 

scurity with  regard  to  the  Passions        -  108 

[IV].     The  same  subject  continued         _         -         -  ibid 

V.     Power Ill 

VI.     Privation 117 

VII.     Vastness 118 

VIII.     Infinity 119 

IX.     Succession  and  Uniformity         -         -         -  120 

X.     Magnitude  in  Building         -         -         -  122 

XI.     Infinity  in  pleasing  Objects         -         -         -  123 

XII.     Difficulty ibid 

XIII.  Magnificence         -         -         -         -         -  124 

XIV.  Light             -             -             -             -  125 
XV.     Light  in  Building             -             -             -  127 

XVI.  Colour  considered  as  productive  of  the  Sublime    ibid 

XVII.  Sound  and  Loudness             -             -         -  128 
XVIII.    Suddenness             -             -             -             -  129 

XIX.     Intermitting                  -             -             -  ibid 

XX.     The  Cries  of  Animals.            -             -  130 

XXL     Smell  and  Taste.     Bitters  and  Stenches  131 

XXII.     Feeling.     Pain.             -             -             -  132 

PART    III. 

I.     Of  Beauty            -             -            -        -  133 
n.     Proportion  not  the  cause  of  Beauty  in  Veget- 
ables            -             -             -             -  134 


CONTENTS. 


CI 


SECT.  PAGE 

III.  Proportionnot  the  cause  of  Beauty  in  Animals  137 

IV.  Proportion  not  the  cause  of  Beauty   in   the 

Human  Species             -             -         -  138 

V,     Proportion  further  considered         -         -  143 

VI.     Fitness  not  the  cause  of  Beauty         -         -  146 

VIL     The  real  effects  of  Fitness         _         _         _  148 

VIII.     The  Recapitulation         -         -         -         -  150 

IX.     Perfection  not  the  cause  of  Beauty           -  151 

X.     How  far  the  idea  of  Beauty  may  be  applied 

to  the  qualities  of  the  mind              -  ibid 
XI.     How  far  the  idea  of  Beauty  may  be  applied 

to  virtue             -             -              -  152 


XII. 

The  real  cause  of  Beaut v 

153 

XIII. 

Beautiful  objects  small 

ibid 

XIV. 

Smoothness             _             _             > 

155 

XV. 

Gradual  Variation             -             -         - 

ibid 

XVI. 

Delicacy             _             -              - 

157 

XVII. 

Beauty  in  colour             - 

ibid- 

XVIII. 

Recapitulation              _              _              _ 

158 

XIX. 

The  Physiognomy         _         -         _          _ 

159 

XX. 

The  Eye              -              -              - 

ibid 

XXI. 

Ugliness             _             _             -           _ 

160 

XXII. 

Grace             _             _             _             _ 

ibid 

XXIII. 

Elegance  and  Speciousness 

161 

XXIV. 

The  Beautiful  in  Feeling 

ibid 

XXV. 

The  Beautiful  in  Sounds 

163 

XXVI. 

Taste  and  Smell             -             -          - 

164 

XXVII. 

The  Sublime  and  Beautiful  compared 

165 

PART     IV. 


I.  Of  the   efficient  cause  of  the  Sublime  and 

Beautiful  -  ^  -  167 

II.  Association  -  -  -  168 

III.  Cause  of  Pain  and  Fear  -  -  169 

IV.  Continued             -             -             -          -  171 
V.  How  the  Sublime  is  produced               -  1 72 

VI.  How  Pain  can  be  a  cause  of  Delight         -  ibid 


C2 


CONTENl^S. 


SECT.  PAGE 

VII.  Exercise  necessary  for  the  finer  Organs  174* 

VIII.  Why  things  not  dangerous  sometimes  pro- 

duce a  passion  Uke  Terrour              -  ibid 
IX.     Why  visual  objects  of  great   dixnensions  are 

Subhme         _         _         _         _           _  175 

X.     Unity,  why  requisite  to  Vastness          -  176 

XI.     The  artificial  Infinite             -               -  177 

XII.     The  vibrations  must  be  similar         -  178 

XIII.  The  effects  of  succession  in  visual  objects  ex- 

plained             -             -             -          -  ibid 

XIV.  Locke's  opinion  concerning  Darkness   con- 

sidered            -             -             -           -  180 

XV.     Darkness  terrible  in  its  own  nature          -  182 

XVI.     Why  Darkness  is  terrible           -           -  183 

XVII.     The  effects  of  Blackness              -          -  184? 

XVIII.     The  effects  of  Blackness  moderated          -  186 

XIX.     The  physical  cause  of  Love            -           -  ibid 

XX.     Why  Smoothness  is  Beautiful              -  188 

XXI.     Sweetness,  its  nature               -              -  ibid 

XXlI.     Sweetness  relaxing           -          -           -  190 

XXIII.  Variation  why  beautiful           -             -  191 

XXIV.  Concerning  Smallness              -              -  193 
XXV.     Of  Colour         -          -             -             -  195 

PART     V. 


I.     Of  Words  -  -  _  -  197 

II.     The  common  eff^ect  of  Poetry,  not  by  raising 

ideas  of  things  -  -  -  198 

III.  General  words  before  ideas         -  -  199 

IV.  The  effect  of  Words  -  -  201 

V.  Examples  that  words  may  affect  without  rais- 

ing images  -  _         _         _  202 

VI.     Poetry  not  strictly  an  imitative  art  -  206 

VII.     How  Words  influence  the  Passions  -  207 


INTRODUCTION. 


ON  TASTE. 


On  a  superficial  view,  we  may  see.  to  dif- 
fer  very  widely  from  each  other  in  our  reasonings,  and  no 
less  in  our  pleasures :  but  notwithstanding  this  difference, 
which  I  think  to  be  rather  apparent  than  real,  it  is  probable 
that  the  standard  both  of  reason  and  taste  is  the  same  in  all 
human  creatures.  For  if  there  were  not  some  principles  of 
judgment  as  well  as  of  sentiment  common  to  all  mankind,  no 
hold  could  possibly  be  taken  either  on  their  reason  or  their 
passions,  sufficient  to  maintain  the  ordinary  correspondence  of 
life.  It  appears  indeed  to  be  generally  acknowledged,  that  with 
regard  to  truth  and  falsehood  there  is  something  fixed.  We 
find  people  in  their  disputes  continually  appealing  to  certain 
tests  and  standards,  which  are  allowed  on  all  sides,  and  are 
supposed  to  be  established  in  our  common  nature.  But  there 
is  not  the  same  obvious  concurrence  in  any  uniform  or  set- 
tled principles  which  relate  to  taste.  It  is  even  commonly 
supposed  that  this  delicate  and  aerial  faculty,  which  seems  too 
svolatile  to  endure  even  the  chains  of  a  definition,  cannot  be 
properly  tried  by  any  test,  nor  regulated  by  any  standard. 
There  is  so  continual  a  call  for  the  exercise  of  the  reasoning 
faculty,  and  it  is  so  much  strengthened  by  perpetual  conten- 
tion, that  certain  maxims  of  right  reason  seem  to  be  tacitly 
settled  amongst  the  most  ignorant.  The  learned  have  im- 
proved on  this  rude  science,  and  reduced  those  maxims  into 


ei  INTRODUCTION. 

a  system.  If  taste  has  not  been  so  happily  cultivated^  it  was 
not  that  the  subject  was  barren,  but  that  tlie  labourers  w^re 
few  or  negligent  j  for  to  say  the  truth,  there  are  not  the  same 
interesting  motives  to  impel  us  to  fix  the  one,  which  urge 
us  to  ascertain  the  other.  And  after  all,  if  men  differ  in  their 
opinion  concerning  such  matters,  their  difference  is  not  at- 
tended with  the  same  important  consequences ;  else  I  make 
no  doubt  but  that  the  logick  of  taste,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the 
expression,  might  very  possibly  be  as  well  digested,  and  we 
might  come  to  discuss  matters  of  this  nature  with  as  much 
certainty,  as  those  which  seem  more  immediately  within  the 
province  of  mere  reason.  And  indeed,  it  is  very  necessary, 
at  the  entrance  into  such  an  inquiry  as  our  present,  to  make 
this  point  as  clear  as  possible ;  for  if  taste  has  no  fixed  prin- 
ciples, if  the  imagination  is  not  affected  according  to  some 
invariable  and  certain  laws,  our  labour  is  like  to  be  employed 
to  very  little  purpose ;  as  it  must  be  judged  an  useless,  if  not 
un  absurd  undertaking,  to  lay  down  rules  for  caprice,  and  to 
set  up  for  a  legislator  of  whims  and  fancies. 

The  term  taste,  like  all  other  figurative  terms,  is  not  ex- 
tremely accurate  ;  the  thing  which  we  understand  by  it,  is 
far  from  a  simple  and  determinate  idea  in  the  minds  of  most 
men,  and  it  is  therefore  liable  to  uncertainty  and  confusion. 
I  have  no  great  opinion  of  a  definition,  the  celebrated  rem- 
edy for  the  cure  of  this  disorder.  For  when  we  define,  we 
seem  in  danger  of  circumscribing  nature  within  the  bounds 
of  our  own  notions,  which  we  often  take  up  by  hazard,  or 
embrace  on  trust,  or  form  out  of  a  limited  and  partial  consid- 
eration of  the  object  before  us,  instead  of  extending  our  ideas 
to  take  in  all  that  nature  comprehends,  according  to  her  man- 
ner of  combining.  We  are  limited  in  our  inquiry  by  the 
strict  laws  to  which  we  have  submitted  at  our  setting  out. 

Circa  vllem  paUtlumque  morabhnur  orbeniy 


Unde  pu^or  proferre  pedein  vet  at  aiit  cperis  lex. 

A  definition  may  be  very  exact,  and  yet  go  but  a  very  little 
way  towards  informing  us  of  the  nature  of  the  thing  defined  ; 
but  let  the  virtue  of  a  definition  be  what  it  will,  in  the  order  of 
things,  it  seems  rather  to  follow  than  to  precede  our  inquiry, 


ON  TASTE.  65 

of  which  it  ought  to  be  considered  as  the  result.  It  must  be 
acknowledged  that  the  methods  of  disquisition  and  teaching 
may  be  sometimes  different,  and  on  very  good  reason  un- 
doubtedly ;  but  for  my  part,  I  am  convinced  that  the  method 
of  teaching  which  approaches  most  nearly  to  the  method  of 
investigation,  is  incomparably  the  best ;  since,  not  content 
vnth.  serving  up  a  few  baxi'en  and  lifeless  truths,  it  leads  to 
the  stock  on  which  they  grew  ;  it  tends  to  set  the  reader 
himself  in  the  track  of  invention,  and  to  direct  him  into 
those  paths  in  which  the  author  has  made  his  own  discover- 
ies, if  he  should  be  so  happy  as  to  have  made  any  that  are 
valuable. 

But  to  cut  off  all  pretence  for  cavilling,  I  mean  by  the 
word  Taste  no  more  than  that  faculty  or  those  faculties  of 
the  mind,  which  are  affected  Avith,  or  which  form  a  judg- 
ment of,  the  works  of  imagination  and  the  elegant  arts. 
This  is,  I  think,  the  most  general  idea  of  that  word,  and 
v^^hat  is  the  least  connected  with  any  particular  theory.  And 
my  point  in  this  inquiry  is,  to  find  whether  there  are  any 
principles,  on  which  the  imagination  is  affected,  so  common 
to  all,  so  grounded  and  certain,  as  to  supply  the  means  of 
reasoning  satisfactorily  about  them.  And  such  principles  of 
taste  I  fancy  there  are  -,  however  paradoxical  it  may  seem  to 
those,  who  on  a  superficial  view  imagine,  that  there  is  so 
great  a  diversity  of  tastes,  both  in  kind  and  degree,  that 
nothing  can  be  more  indeterminate. 

All  the  natural  powers  in  man,  which  I  know,  that  are 
conversant  about  external  objects,  are  the  senses  •,  the  im- 
agination ;  and  the  judgment.  And  first  with  regard  to  the 
senses.  We  do  and  we  must  suppose,  that  as  the  conform- 
ation of  their  organs  are  nearly  or  altogether  the  same  in  all 
men,  so  the  manner  of  perceiving  external  objects  is  in  all 
men  the  same,  or  with  little  difference.  We  are  satisfied 
that  what  appears  to  be  light  to  one  eye,  appears  light  to 
another  j  that  what  seems  sweet  to  one  palate,  is  sweet  to 
another  j  that  what  is  dark  and  bitter  to  this  man,  is  like- 
wise dark  and  bitter  to  that  j  and  we  conclude  in  the  same 
manner  of  great  and  little,  hard  and  soft,  hot  and  cold, 
rough  and  smooth  j  and  indeed  of  ail   the  natural  qualities 

Vol.  I.  L 


06  INTRODUCTION. 

and  affections  of  bodies.     If  we  suffer  ourselves  to  imagine, 
that  their  senses  present  to  different  men  different  images  of 
things,  this    sceptical   proceeding    will    make   every   sort  of 
reasoning    on    every    subject   vain   and  frivolous,  even  that 
sceptical  reasoning  itself  which  had  persuaded  us  to  entertain 
a  doubt  concerning  the  agreement  of  our  perceptions.     But 
as  there  will  be  little    doubt  that  bodies  present   similar  im- 
ages to  the  whole  species,  it    must    necessarily    be  allowed, 
that  the  pleasures  and  the   pains  which    every  object  excites 
in  one  man,  it  must  raise  in  all  mankind,  whilst  it  operates, 
naturally,  simply,  and  by  its  proper  powers  only  ;  for  if  we 
deny  this,  we  must  imagine  that  the  same  cause  operating  in 
the  same  manner,  and  on   subjects  of  the   same  kind,  will 
produce  different   effects,  which  would  be  highly   absurd. 
Let  us  first  consider  this  point  in  the  sense  of  taste,  and  the 
rather  as  the  faculty  in    question    has   taken  its    name  from 
that  sense.     All  men  are  agreed  to  call  vinegar  sour,  honey 
sweet,  and  aloes  bitter  ;  and  as  they  are  all  agreed  in   find- 
ing these  qualities  in  those  objects,    they  do  not   in  the  least 
differ  concerning  their  effects  with    regard    to   pleasure  and 
pain.     They  all  concur   in  calling  sweetness   pleasant,    and 
sourness  and  bitterness  unpleasant.     Here  there  is  no  diver- 
sity in  their  sentiments  ;  and  that  there  is  not,  appears  fully 
from  the  consent  of  all  men  in  the  metaphors  which  are  tak- 
en from  the  sense  of  taste.     A  sour  temper,  bitter    expres- 
sions, bitter  curses,  a  bitter  fate,  are  terms  well  and  strong- 
ly understood  by  all.     And  we  are  altogether  as  well  under- 
stood when  we  say,    a  sweet  disposition,  a    sweet    person,  a 
sweet  condition,  and  the  like.     It  is  confessed,  that  custom 
and  some  other  causes,  have  made  manv  deviations  from  the 
natural  pleasures  or  pains  which   belong   to  these  several 
tastes  ;  but  then  the   power  of  distinguishing   between   the 
natural  and  the  acquired  relish  remains  to  the  very  last.     A 
man  frequently  comes  to  prefer  the  taste  of  tobacco   to  that 
of  sugar,  and  the  flavour  of  vinegar  to  that  of  milk  ;  but 
this  makes  no    confusion  in  tastes,  whilst  he  is  sensible  that 
the  tobacco  and  vinegar  are  not  sweet,  and  whilst  he  knows 
that  habit  alone  has  reconciled  his  palate  to  these  alien  pleas- 
ures.    Even  with  such  a  person  we  may  speak,  and   with 


ON  TASTE.  67 

sufficient  precision,  concerning  tastes.  But  should  any  man 
be  found  who  declares,  that  to  him  tobacco  has  a  taste  like 
sugar,  and  that  he  cannot  distinguish  between  milk  and  vin- 
egar ;  or  that  tobacco  and  vinegar  are  sweet,  milk  bitter, 
and  sugar  sour  ;  we  immediately  conclude  that  the  organs 
of  this  man  are  out  of  order,  and  that  his  palate  is  utterly 
vitiated.  We  are  as  far  from  conferring  with  such  a  person 
upon  tastes,  as  from  reasoning  concerning  the  relations  of 
quantity  with  one  who  should  deny  that  all  the  parts  to- 
gether were  equal  to  the  whole.  We  do  not  call  a  man  of 
this  kind  wrong  in  his  notions,  but  absolutely  mad.  Excep- 
tions of  this  sort,  in  either  way,  do  not  at  all  impeach  our 
general  rule,  nor  make  us  conclude  that  men  have  various 
principles  concerning  the  relations  of  quantity  or  the  taste 
of  things.  So  that  when  it  is  said,  taste  cannot  be  disputed, 
it  can  only  mean,  that  no  one  can  strictly  answer  what 
pleasure  or  pain  some  particular  man  may  find  from  the 
taste  of  some  particular  thing.  This  indeed  cannot  be  dis- 
puted ;  but  we  may  dispute,  and  with  sufficient  clearness 
too,  concerning  the  things  which  are  naturally  pleasing  or 
4isagreeable  to  the  sense.  But  when  we  talk  of  any  peculiar 
or  acquired  relish,  then  we  must  know  the  habits,  the  pre- 
judices, or  the  distempers  of  this  particular  man,  and  v/e 
must  draw  our  conclusion  from  those. 

This  agreement  of  mankind  is  not  confined  to  the  taste 
solely.  The  principle  of  pleasure  derived  from  sight  is  the 
same  in  all.  Light  is  more  pleasing  than  darkness.  Sum- 
mer, when  the  earth  is  clad  in  green,  when  the  heavens  are 
serene  and  bright,  is  more  agreeable  than  winter,  when  every 
thing  makes  a  different  appearance.  I  never  remember  that 
any  thing  beautiful,  whether  a  man,  a  beast,  a  bird,  or  a 
plant,  was  ever  shewn,  though  it  were  to  an  hundred  peo- 
ple, that  they  did  not  all  immediately  agree  that  it  was 
beautiful,  though  some  might  have  thought  that  it  fell  short 
of  their  expectation,  or  that  other  things  were  still  finer.  I 
believe  no  man  thinks  a  goose  to  be  more  beautiful  than  a 
swan,  or  imagineis  that  what  they  call  a  Friezland  hen  excels 
a  peacock.  It  must  be  observed  too,  that  the  pleasures  of 
the  sight  are  not  near  so  complicated,  and  confused,  and  al- 


(58  INTRODUCTION. 

tered  by  unnatural  habits  and  associations,  as   the   pleasure*' 
of  the  taste  are  ;  because   the    pleasures  of  the    sight  more 
commonly  acquiesce  in  themselves  j  and    are  not  so  often 
altered  by  considerations  which  are  independent  of  the  sight 
itself.     But  things  do  not  spontaneously   present  themselves 
to  the  palate  as  they  do  to  the  sight  ;  they  are  generally  ap- 
plied to  it,  either  as   food    or    as   medicine  ;  and    from  the 
qualities  which  they  possess  for    nutritive  or  medicinal  pur- 
poses, they  often  form  the  palate  by  degrees,  and  by  force 
of  these   associations.     Thus  opium    is   pleasing  to   Turks, 
on  account  of  the  agreeable  delirium  it  produces.     Tobacco 
is  the  delight  of  Dutchmen,  as  it  diffuses  a  torpor  and  pleas- 
ing   stupefaction.     Fermented    spirits    please    our    common 
people,  because  they  banish  care,  and   all    consideration  of 
future  or  present  evils.     All  of  these   would  lie   absolutely 
neglected  if  their   properties  had  originally  gone  no  further 
than  the  taste  ;  but    all  these,  together  with  tea  and  coffee, 
and  some  other  things,  have    passed  from  the   apothecary's 
shop  to  our  tables,  and  were  taken  for   health   long  before 
they  were  thought  of  for  pleasure.     The  effect  of  the  drug 
has  made  us  use  it  frequently  j  and  frequent  use,    combined 
with  the  agreeable  effect,  has  made    the  taste  itself   at  last 
agreeable.     But  this  does  not  in  the  least  perplex  our  reason- 
ing ;  because  we  distinguish  to  the    last  the  acquired    from 
the  natural  relish.     In  describing   the  taste  of  an  unknown 
fruit,  you  would  scarcely  say  that  it  had  a  sv/eet  and  pleasant 
flavour  like  tobacco,  opium,  or  garlick,  although  you  spoke 
to  those  who  were  in  the   constant  use  of  these    drugs,  and 
had  great  pleasure  in  them.     There  is  in  all  men  a  sufficient 
remembrance  of  the  original    natural  causes  of  pleasure,  to 
enable  them  to  bring  all  things    offered   to    their  senses   to 
that  standard,  and  to  regulate  their  feelings  and  opinions  by 
it.     Suppose  one  who  had  so  vitiated  his  palate  as  to  take 
more  pleasure  in  the  taste  of  opium  than  in  that  of  butter  or 
honey,  to  be  presented  with  a  bolus  of  squills ;  there  is  hard- 
ly any  doubt  but  that  he  would  prefer  the  butter  or  honey 
to  this  nauseous  morsel,  or  to  any  other  bitter  drug  to  which 
he  had  not  been  accustomed ;  which  proves  that   his  palate 
was  naturally  like  that  of  other  men  in  all  things,  that  it  is 


ON  TASTI.  69 

Still  like  the  palate  of  other  men  in  many  things,  and  only 
vitiated  in  some  particular  points.  For  in  judging  of  any 
new  thing,  even  of  a  taste  similar  to  that  which  he  has  been 
formed  by  habit  to  like,  he  finds  his  palate  affected  in  the 
natural  manner,  and  on  the  common  principles.  Thus  the 
pleasure  of  all  the  senses,  of  the  sight,  and  even  of  the  taste, 
that  most  ambiguous  of  the  senses,  is  the  same  in  all,  high 
and  low,  learned  and  unlearned. 

Besides  the  ideas,  with  their  annexed  pains  and  pleasures, 
which  are  presented  by  the  sense  •,  me  mind  of  man  posses- 
ses a  sort  of  creative  power  of  its  own  •,  either  in  represent- 
ing at  pleasure  the  images  of  things  in  the  order  and  manner 
in  which  they  were  received  by  the  senses,  or  in  combining 
those  images  in  a  new  manner,  and  according  to  a  different 
order.  This  power  is  called  imagination ;  and  to  this  be- 
longs whatever  is  called  wit,  fancy,  invention,  and  the  like= 
But  it  must  be  observed,  that  the  power  of  the  imagination 
is  incapable  of  producing  any  thing  absolutely  new  ;  it  can 
only  vary  the  disposition  of  those  ideas  which  it  has  received 
from  the  senses.  Now  the  imagination  is  the  most  exten- 
sive province  of  pleasure  and  pain,  as  it  is  the  region  of  our 
fears  and  our  hopes,  and  of  all  our  passions  that  are  connect- 
ed with  them ;  and  whatever  is  calculated  to  affect  the  im- 
agination with  these  commanding  ideas,  by  force  of  any  orig- 
inal natural  impression,  must  have  the  same  power  pretty 
equally  over  all  men.  For  since  the  imagination  is  only  the 
representation  of  the  senses,  it  can  only  be  pleased  or  dis- 
pleased with  the  images,  from  the  same  principle  on  which 
the  sense  is  pleased  or  displeased  v/ith  the  realities ;  and  con- 
sequently there  must  be  just  as  close  an  agreement  in  the 
imaginations  as  in  the  senses  of  men.  A  little  attention  will 
convince  us  that  this  must  of  necessity  be  the  case. 

But  in  the  imagination,  besides  the  pain  or  pleasure  ari- 
sing from  the  properties  of  the  natural  object,  a  pleasure  is 
perceived  from  the  resemblance,  which  the  imitation  has  to 
the  original  :  the  imagination,  I  conceive,  can  have  no  pleas- 
ure but  what  results  from  one  or  other  of  these  causes.  And 
these  causes  operate  pretty  uniformly  upon  all  men,  because 
they  operate  by  pi  inciples  in  nature,  and  which  are  not  deriv- 


"TO  INTRODUCTION. 

ed  from  any  particular  habits  or  advantages.  Mr.  Locke 
("?ery  justly  and  finely  observes  of  wit,  that  it  is  chiefly  con- 
versant in  tracing  resemblances  :  he  remarks  at  the  same 
time,  that  the  business  of  judgment  is  rather  in  finding  dif- 
ferences. It  may  perhaps  appear,  on  this  supposition,  that 
there  is  no  material  distinction  between  the  wit  and  the  judg- 
ment, as  they  both  seem  to  result  from  diflferent  operations 
of  the  same  faculty  of  comparing.  But  in  reality,  whether 
they  are  or  are  not  dependent  on  the  same  power  of  the  mind, 
they  differ  so  very  materially  in  many  respects,  that  a  perfect 
tmion  of  wit  and  judgment  is  one  of  the  rarest  things  in  the 
world.  "When  two  distinct  objects  are  unlike  to  each  other, 
it  is  only  what  we  expect ;  things  are  in  their  common  way ; 
and  therefore  they  make  no  impression  on  the  imagination : 
but  when  two  distinct  objects  have  a  resemblance,  we  are 
struck,  we  attend  to  them,  and  we  are  pleased.  The  mind 
of  man  has  naturally  a  far  greater  alacrity  and  satisfaction  in 
tracing  resemblances  than  in  searching  for  differences :  be- 
cause by  making  resemblances  we  produce  neiu  images ;  we 
unite,  we  create,  we  enlarge  our  stock  j  but  in  making  dis- 
tinctions we  offer  no  food  at  all  to  the  imagination  j  the  task 
itself  is  more  severe  and  irksome,  and  what  pleasure  we  de- 
rive from  it  is  something  of  a  negative  and  indirect  nature. 
A  piece  of  news  is  told  me  in  the  morning  j  this,  merely  as 
a  piece  of  news,  as  a  fact  added  to  my  stock,  gives  me  some 
pleasure.  In  the  evening  I  find  there  was  nothing  in  it. 
What  do  I  gain  by  this,  but  the  dissatisfaction  to  find  that  I 
had  been  imposed  upon  ?  Hence  it  is  that  men  are  much 
more  naturally  inclined  to  belief  than  to  incredulity.  And 
it  is  upon  this  principle,  that  the  most  ignorant  and  barba- 
rous nations  have  frequently  excelled  in  similitudes,  compar- 
isons, metaphors,  and  allegories,  who  have  been  weak  and 
backward  in  distinguishing  and  sorting  their  ideas.  And  it 
is  for  a  reason  of  this  kind,  that  Homer  and  the  oriental  wri- 
ters, though  very  fond  of  similitudes,  and  though  they  often 
strike  out  such  as  are  truly  admirable,  seldom  take  care  to  have 
them  exact ;  that  is,  they  are  taken  with  the  general  resem- 
blance, they  paint  it  strongly,  and  they  take  no  notice  of  the 
difference  which  may  be  found  between  the  things  compared. 


ON  TASTE.  7J 

Now,  as  the  pleasure  of  resemblance  is  that  which  princii 
pally  flatters  the  imagination,  all  men  are  nearly  equal  in  this 
point,  as  far  as  their  knowledge  of  the  things  represented  or 
compared  extends.  The  principle  of  this  knowledge  is  very 
much  accidental,  as  it  depends  upon  experience  and  observa* 
tion,  and  not  on  the  strength  or  weakness  of  any  natural  fac- 
ulty ;  and  it  is  from  this  difference  in  knowledge,  that  what 
we  commonly,  though  with  no  great  exactness,  call  a  differ*- 
ence  in  taste  proceeds.  A  man  to  whom  sculpture  is  new, 
sees  a  barber's  block,  or  some  ordinary  piece  of  statuary ;  he 
is  immediately  struck  and  pleased,  because  he  sees  something 
like  an  human  figure ;  and,  entirely  taken  up  with  this  like- 
ness, he  does  not  at  all  attend  to  its  defects.  No  person,  I 
believe,  at  the  first  time  of  seeing  a  piece  of  imitation  ever 
did.  Some  time  after,  we  suppose  that  this  novice  lights 
upon  a  more  artificial  work  of  the  same  nature ;  he  now  be-^ 
gins  to  look  with  contempt  on  what  he  admired  at  first ;  not 
that  he  admired  it  even  then  for  its  unlikeness  to  a  man,  but 
for  that  general  though  inaccurate  resemblance  which  it  bore 
to  the  human  figure.  What  he  admired  at  different  times 
in  these  so  different  figures,  is  strictly  the  same  ;  and  though 
his  knowledge  is  improved,  his  taste  is  not  altered.  Hither- 
to his  mistake  was  from  a  want  of  knowledge  in  art,  and 
this  arose  from  his  inexperience  ;  but  he  may  be  still  deficient 
from  a  want  of  knowledge  in  nature.  For  it  is  possible  that 
the  man  in  question  may  stop  here,  and  that  the  master-piece 
of  a  great  hand  may  please  him  no  more  than  the  middling 
performance  of  a  vulgar  artist ;  and  this  not  for  want  of  bet- 
ter or  higher  relish,  but  because  all  men  do  not  observe  with 
sufficient  accuracy  on  the  human  figure  to  enable  them  to 
judge  properly  of  an  imitation  of  it.  And  that  the  critical 
taste  does  not  depend  upon  a  superiour  principle  in  men,  but 
upon  superiour  knowledge,  may  appear  from  several  instan- 
ces. The  story  of  the  antient  painter  and  the  shoemaker  is 
very  well  known.  The  shoemaker  set  the  painter  right  witli 
regard  to  some  mistakes  he  had  made  in  the  shoe  of  one  of 
his  figures,  and  which  the  painter,  who  had  not  made  such 
accurate  observations  on  shoes,  and  was  content  with  a  gene- 
ral resemblance,  had  never  observed.     But  this  was  no  im- 


72  INTRODUCTION. 

peachmcnt  to  the  taste  of  the  painter ;  it  only  shewed  some 
want  of  knowledge  in  the  art  of  making  shoes.  Let  usjm- 
aginc,  that  an  anatomist  had  come  into  the  painter's  work- 
ing-room. His  piece  is  in  general  well  done,  the  figure  in 
question  in  a  good  attitude,  and  the  parts  well  adjusted  to 
their  various  movements  ;  yet  the  anatomist,  critical  in  his 
art,  may  observe  the  swell  of  some  muscle  not  quite  just  in 
the  peculiar  action  of  the  figure.  Here  the  anatomist  ob- 
serves what  the  painter  had  not  observed ;  and  he  passes  by 
what  the  shoemaker  had  remarked.  But  a  want  of  the  last 
critical  knowledge  in  anatomy  no  more  reflected  on  the  nat- 
ural good  taste  of  the  painter,  or  of  any  common  observer  of 
his  piece,  than  the  want  of  an  exact  knowledge  in  the  for- 
mation of  a  shoe.  A  fine  piece  of  a  decollated  head  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist  was  shewn  to  a  Turkish  emperor  •,  he  prais- 
ed many  things,  but  he  observed  one  defect ;  he  observed 
that  the  skin  did  not  shrink  from  the  wounded  part  of  the 
neck.  The  sultan  on  this  occasion,  though  his  observation 
was  very  just,  discovered  no  more  natural  taste  than  the 
painter  who  executed  this  piece,  or  than  a  thousand  Europe- 
an connoisseurs,  who  probably  never  would  have  made  the 
same  observation.  His  Turkish  majesty  had  indeed  been 
well  acquainted  with  that  terrible  spectacle,  which  the  oth- 
ers could  only  have  represented  in  their  imagination.  On 
the  subject  of  their  dislike  there  is  a  difference  between  all 
these  people,  arising  from  the  difierent  kinds  and  degrees  of 
their  knowledge ;  but  there  is  something  in  common  to  the 
painter,  the  shoemaker,  the  anatomist,  and  the  Turkish  em- 
peror, the  pleasure  arising  from  a  natural  object,  so  far  as 
each  perceives  it  justly  imitated ;  the  satisfaction  in  seeing 
an  agreeable  figure  j  the  sympathy  proceeding  from  a  strik- 
ing and  afi'ecting  incident.  So  far  as  taste  is  natural,  it  is 
nearly  common  to  all. 

In  poetry,  and  other  pieces  of  imagination,  the  same  pari- 
ty may  be  observed.  It  is  true,  that  one  man  is  charmed 
with  Don  Bellianis,  and  reads  Virgil  coldly :  whilst  another 
is  transported  with  the  Eneid,  and  leaves  Don  Bellianis  to 
children.  These  two  men  seem  to  have  a  taste  very  differ- 
ent from  each  other  j  but  in  fact  they  differ  very  little.    In 


ON  TASTE.  "73 

both  these  pieces,  which  inspire  such  opposite  sentiments,  a 
tale  exciting  admiration  is  told  ;  both  are  full  of  action,  both 
are  passionate ;  in  both  are  voyages,  battles,  triumphs,  and 
continual  changes  of  fortune.  The  admirer  of  Don  Bellia- 
nis  perhaps  does  not  understand  the  refined  language  of  the 
Eneid,  who,  if  it  was  degraded  into  the  style  of  the  Pilgrim's 
Progress,  might  feel  it  in  all  its  energy,  on  the  same  princi- 
ple which  made  him  an  admirer  of  Don  Bellianis. 

In  his  favourite  author  he  is  not  shocked  with  the  contin- 
ual breaches  of  probability,  the  confusion  of  times,  the  offen- 
ces against  manners,  the  trampling  upon  geography  j  for  he 
knows  nothing  of  geography  and  chronology,  and  he  has 
never  examined  the  grounds  of  probability.  He  perhaps 
reads  of  a  shipwreck  on  the  coast  of  Bohemia  :  wholly  taken 
up  with  so  interesting  an  event,  and  only  solicitous  for  the 
fate  of  his  hero,  he  is  not  in  the  least  troubled  at  this  extrav- 
agant blunder.  For  why  should  he  be  shocked  at  a  ship- 
wreck on  the  coast  of  Bohemia,  who  does  not  know  but  that 
Bohemia  may  be  an  island  in  the  Atlantick  ocean  ?  and  after 
all,  what  reflection  is  this  on  the  natural  good  taste  of  the 
person  here  supposed  ? 

So  far  then  as  taste  belongs  to  the  Imagination,  Its  princi- 
ple Is  the  same  In  all  men  •,  there  Is  no  difference  in  the  man- 
ner of  their  being  affected,  nor  in  the  causes  of  the  affec- 
tion ;  but  In  the  degree  there  is  a  difference,  which  arises 
from  two  causes  principally  •,  either  from  a  greater  degree  of 
natural  sensibility,  or  from  a  closer  and  longer  attention  to 
the  object.  To  Illustrate  this  by  the  procedure  of  the  sen- 
ses, In  which  the  same  difference  Is  found,  let  us  suppose  a 
very  smooth  marble  table  to  be  set  before  two  men  ;  they 
both  perceive  It  to  be  smooth,  and  they  are  both  pleased  with 
it  because  of  this  quality.  So  far  they  agree.  But  suppose 
another,  and  after  that  another  table,  the  latter  still  smooth- 
er than  the  former,  to  be  set  before  them.  It  is  now  very 
probable  that  these  men,  who  are  so  agreed  upon  what  is 
smooth,  and  In  the  pleasure  from  thence,  will  disagree  when 
they  come  to  settle  which  table  has  the  advantage  In  point 
of  polish.  Here  Is  Indeed  the  great  difference  between 
tastes,  when  men  come  to  compare  the  excess  or  diminution 
,  Vol.  I^  M 


74  risTRODUCTION. 

of  things  which  are  judged  by  degree  and  not  by  measure. 
Nor  is  it  easy,  when  such  a  difference  arises,  to  settle  the 
point,  if  the  excess  or  diminution  be  not  glaring.  If  we  dif- 
fer in  opinion  about  two  quantities,  we  can  have  recourse  to 
a  common  measure,  which  may  decide  the  question  with  the 
utmost  exactness  j  and  this,  I  take  it,  is  what  gives  mathe- 
matical knowledge  a  greater  certainty  than  any  other.  But 
in  things  whose  excess  is  not  judged  by  greater  or  smaller,  as 
smootluiess  and  roughness,  hardness  and  softness,  darkness 
and  light,  the  shades  of  colours,  all  these  are  very  easily  dis- 
tinguished when  the  difference  is  any  way  considerable,  but 
not  when  it  is  minute,  for  want  of  some  common  measures, 
which  perhaps  may  never  come  to  be  discovered.  In  these 
nice  cases,  supposing  the  acuteness  of  the  sense  equal,  the 
greater  attention  and  habit  in  such  things  will  have  tlie  advan- 
tage. In  the  question  about  the  tables,  the  marble-polisher  will 
unquestionably  determine  the  most  accurately.  But  notwith- 
standing this  want  of  a  common  measure  for  settling  many  dis- 
putes relative  to  the  senses,  and  their  representative  the  im- 
agination, we  find  that  the  principles  are  the  same  in  all,  and 
that  there  is  no  disagreement  until  we  come  to  examine  Into 
the  pre-eminence  or  difference  of  things,  which  brings  us 
within  the  province  of  the  judgment. 

So  long  as  we  are  conversant  with  the  sensible  qualities  of 
things,  hardly  any  more  than  the  imagination  seems  concern- 
ed ;  little  more  also  than  the  imagination  seems  concerned 
when  the  passions  are  represented,  because  by  the  force  of 
natural  sympathy  they  are  felt  in  all  men  without  any  re- 
course to  reasoning,  and  their  justness  recognised  in  every 
breast.  Love,  grief,  fear,  anger,  joy,  ail  these  passions 
have  in  their  turns  affected  every  mind  ;  and  they  do  not 
affect  It  in  an  arbitrary  or  casual  mamier,  but  upon  certain, 
natural,  and  uniform  principles.  But  as  many  of  the  works 
of  imagination  are  not  confined  to  the  representation  of  sen- 
sible objects,  nor  to  efforts  upon  the  passions,  but  extend 
themselves  to  the  manners,  the  characters,  the  actions,  and 
designs  of  men,  their  relations,  their  virtues  and  vices,  they 
come  within  the  province  of  the  judgment,  which  Is  improv- 
ed by  attention  and  by  the  Jiabit  of  reasoning.     All  these 


ON  TASTE.    ■  -yS 

make  a  very  considerable  part  of  what  are  considered  as  the 
objects  of  taste  ;  and  Horace  sends  us  to  the  schools  of  phi- 
losophy  and  the  world  for  our  instruction  in  them.     What- 
fiver  certainty  is  to  be  acquired  in  morality  and  the  science 
of  life  ;  just  the  same  degree  of  certainty  have  we  in  what  re- 
lates to  them  in  the  works  of  imitation.     Indeed  it  is  for  the 
most  part  in  our  skill  in  manners,  and  in  the  observances  of 
time  and  place,  and  of  decency  in  general,  which  is  only  to 
be  learned  in  those  schools  to  which  Horace  recommends  us, 
that  what  is  called  taste,  by  way  of  distinction,  consists  ;  and 
which  is  in  reality  no  other  than  a  more  refined  judgment. 
On  the  whole,  it  appears  to  me,  that  what  is  called  taste,  in 
its  most  general  acceptation,  is  not  a  simple  idea,  but  is  part- 
ly made  up  of  a  perception  of  the  primary  pleasures  of  sense, 
of  the  secondary  pleasures  of  the  imagination,  and  of  the  con- 
clusions of  the  reasoning  faculty,  concerning  the  various  re- 
lations of  these,  and  concerning  the  human  passions,  man- 
ners, and  actions.     All  this  is  requisite  to  form  taste,  and  the 
ground-work  of  all  these  is  the  same  in  the  human  mind  j 
for  as  the  senses  are  the  great  originals  of  all  our  ideas,  and 
consequently  of  all  our  pleasures,,  if  they  are  not   uncertain 
and  arbitrary,  the  whole  ground-work  of  taste  is  common  to 
all,  and  therefore  there  is  a  sufficient  foundation  for  a  con- 
clusive reasoning  on  these  matters. 

Whilst  we  consider  taste  merely  according  to  its  nature 
and  species,  we  shall  find  its  principles  entirely  uniform  ; 
but  the  degree  in  which  these  principles  prevail,  in  the  seve- 
ral individuals  of  mankind,  is  altogether  as  difi'erent  as  the 
principles  themselves  are  similar.  For  sensibility  and  judg- 
ment, which  are  the  quaHties  that  compose  what  we  com- 
monly call  a  tastey  vary  exceedingly  in  various  people.  From 
a  defect  in  the  former  of  these  qualities,  ai-ises  a  want  of 
taste  ;  a  weakness  in  the  latter,  constitutes  a  wrong  or  a  bad 
one.  There  are  some  men  formed  with  feelings  so  blunt, 
with  tempers  so  cold  and  phlegmatick,  that  they  can  hardly 
be  said  to  be  awake  during  the  whole  course  of  their  lives- 
Upon  such  persons  the  most  striking  objects  make  but  a  faint 
and  obscure  impression.  There  are  others  so  continually  in  the 
agitation  of  gross  and  merely  sensual  pleasures,  or  so  occupi* 


76  INTRODUCTION. 

ed  In  the  low  drudgery  of  avarice,  or  so  heated  In  the  ehace 
of  honours  and  distinction,  that  their  minds,  which  had  been 
used  continually  to  the  storms  of  these  violent  and  tempestu- 
ous passions,  can  hardly  be  put  in  motion  by  the  delicate  and 
refined  play  of  the  imagination.  These  men,  though  from 
a  different  cause,  become  as  stupid  and  insensible  as  the  form- 
er j  but  whenever  either  of  these  happen  to  be  struck  with 
any  natural  elegance  or  greatness,  or  with  these  qualities  iu 
any  work  of  art,  they  are  moved  upon  the  same  principle. 

The  cause  of  a  wrong  taste  is  a  defect  of  judgment.  And 
this  may  arise  from  a  natural  weakness  of  understanding  (iu 
whatever  the  strength  of  that  faculty  may  consist),  or,  which 
is  much  more  commonly  the  case,  it  may  arise  from  a  want 
of  proper  and  well-directed  exercise,  which  alone  can  make 
it  strong  and  ready.  Besides  that  ignorance,  inattention, 
prejudice,  rashness,  levity,  obstinacy,  in  short,  all  those  pas- 
sions, and  all  those  vices,  which  pervert  the  judgment  in 
other  matters,  prejudice  it  no  less  in  this  its  more  refined  and 
elegant  province.  These  causes  produce  different  opinions 
upon  every  thing  which  is  an  object  of  the  understanding, 
without  inducing  us  to  suppose  that  there  are  no  settled 
principles  of  reason.  And  indeed  on  the  whole  one  may  ob^* 
serve,  that  there  is  rather  less  difference  upon  matters  of  taste 
among  mankind,  than  upon  most  of  those  which  depend  up- 
on the  naked  reason  j  and  that  men  are  far  better  agreed  on 
the  excellence  of  a  description  in  Virgil,  than  on  the  truth 
or  falsehood  of  a  theory  of  Aristotle. 

A  rectitude  of  judgment  in  the  arts,  which  may  be  called 
a  good  taste,  does  in  a  great  measure  depend  upon  sensibili- 
ty ;  because  if  the  mind  has  no  bent  to  the  pleasures  of  the 
imagination,  it  will  never  apply  itself  sufiiciently  to  works  of 
that  species  to  acquire  a  competent  knowledge  in  them.  But 
though  a  degree  of  sensibility  is  requisite  to  form  a  good 
judgment,  yet  a  good  judgment  does  not  necessariiy  arise 
from  a  quick  sensibility  of  pleasure  •,  it  frequently  happens 
that  a  very  poor  judge,  merely  by  force  of  a  greater  com- 
plexional  sensibility.  Is  more  affected  by  a  very  poor  piece, 
than  the  best  judge  by  the  most  perfect  ;  for  as  every  thing 
new,  extraordinary,  grand,  or  passionate,  i§  well  calculated  t^ 


ON  TASTE.  77 

affect  such  a  person,  and  that  the  faults  do  not  affect  him,  his 
pleasure  is  more  pure  and  unmixed  ;  and  as  it  is  merely  a 
pleasure  of  the  imagination,  it  is  much  higher  than  any  which 
is  derived  from  a  rectitude  of  the  judgment  ;  the  judgment 
is  for  the  greater  part  employed  in  throwing  stumbling- 
blocks  in  the  way  of  the  imagination,  in  dissipating  the  scenes 
of  its  enchantment,  and  in  tying  us  down  to  the  disagreeable 
yoke  of  our  reason  ;  for  almost  the  only  pleasure  that  men 
have  in  judging  better  than  others,  consists  in  a  sort  of  con- 
scious pride  and  superiority,  which  arises  from  thinking  right- 
ly ;  but  then,  this  is  an  indirect  pleasure,  a  pleasure  which 
does  not  immediately  result  from  the  object  which  is  under 
contemplation.  In  the  morning  of  our  days,  when  the  sen- 
ses are  unworn  and  tender,  when  the  whole  man  is  awake  in 
every  part,  and  the  gloss  of  novelty  fresh  upon  all  the  objects 
that  surround  us,  how  lively  at  that  time  are  our  sensations, 
but  how  false  and  inaccurate  the  judgments  we  form  of  things  ? 
I  despair  of  ever  receiving  the  same  degree  of  pleasure  from 
the  most  excellent  performances  of  genius,  which  I  felt  at 
that  age  from  pieces  which  my  present  judgment  regards  as 
trifling  and  contemptible.  Every  trivial  cause  of  pleasure  is 
apt  to  affect  the  man  of  too  sanguine  a  complexion  :  his  ap- 
petite is  too  keen  to  suffer  his  taste  to  be  delicate  j  and  he  is 
in  all  respects  what  Ovid  says  of  himself  in  love, 

Molle  meiim  levihus  cor  est  violabtle  teliSf 
JSt  se^nper  causa  esty  cur  ego  semper  amem. 

One  of  this  character  can  never  be  a  refined  judge  ;  never 
what  the  comick  poet  calls  elegans  formarum  spectator.  The 
excellence  and  force  of  a  composition  must  always  be  imper- 
fectly estimated  from  its  effect  on  the  minds  of  any,  ex- 
cept we  know  the  temper  and  character  of  those  minds. 
The  most  powerful  effects  of  poetry  and  musick  have  been 
displayed,  and  perhaps  are  still  displayed,  where  these  arts  are 
but  in  a  very  low  and  imperfect  state.  The  rude  hearer  is 
affected  by  the  principles  which  operate  in  these  arts  even  in 
their  rudest  condition  •,  and  he  is  not  skilful  enough  to  per- 
ceive the  defects.     But  as  arts  advance  towards  their  perfec- 


78  INTRODUCTION. 

tion,  the  science  of  criticism  advances  with  equal  pace,  and 
the  pleasure  of  judges  is  frequently  interrupted  by  the  faults 
which  are  discovered  in  the  most  finished  compositions. 

Before  I  leave  this  subject,  I  cannot  help  taking  notice  of 
an  opinion  which  many  persons  entertain,  as  if  the  taste  were 
a  separate  faculty  of  the  mind,  and  distinct  from  the  judg- 
ment and  imagination  ;  a  species  of  instinct,  by  which  we 
are  struck  naturally,  and  at  the  first  glance,  without  any  pre- 
vious reasoning,  with  the  excellencies,  or  the  defects  of  a 
composition.     So  far  as  the  imagination  and  the  passions  are 
concerned,  I  believe  it  true,  that  the  reason  is  little  consult- 
ed ;  but  where  disposition,  where  decorum,  where  congruity 
are  concerned,  in  short,  wherever  the  best  taste  differs  from 
the  worst,  I  am  convinced  that  the  understanding  operates 
and  nothing  else  ;  and  its  operation  is  in  reality  far  from  be- 
ing always  sudden,  or,  when  it  is  sudden,  it  is  often  far  from 
being  right.     Men  of  the  best  taste  by  consideration  come 
frequently  to  change  these  early  and  precipitate  judgments, 
which  the  mind,  from  its  aversion  to  neutrality  and  doubt 
loves  to  form  on  the  spot.     It  is  known  that  the  taste  (what- 
ever it  is)  is  improved  exactly  as  we  improve  our  judgment, 
by  extending  our  knowledge,  by  a  steady  attention  to  our 
object,  and  by  frequent  exercise.     They  who  have  not  tak- 
en these  methods,  if  their  taste  decides  quickly,  it  is  always 
uncertainly  ;  and  their  quickness  is  owing  to  their  presump- 
tion and  rashness,  and  not  to  any  hidden  irradiation  that  in 
a  moment  dispels  all  darkness  from  their  minds.     But  they 
who  have  cultivated  that  species  of  knowledge  which  makes 
the  object  of  taste,  by  degrees  and  habitually  attain  not  only 
a  soundness,  but  a  readiness  of  judgment,  as  men  do  by  the 
same  methods  on  all  other  occasions.    At  first  they  are  oblig- 
ed to  spell,  but  at  last  they  read  with  ease  and  with  celerity,  but 
this  celerity  of  its  operation  is  no  proof,  that  the  taste  is  a  dis- 
tinct faculty.    Nobody,  I  believe,  has  attended  tlie  course  of  a 
discussion,whichturned  uponmatterswithinthe  sphere  of  mere 
naked  reason,  but  must  have  observed  the  extreme  readiness 
with  which  the  whole  process  of  the  argument  is  carried  on,  the 
grounds  discovered,  the  objections  raised  and  answered,  and 
the  conclusions  drawn  from  premises,  with  a  quickness  alto- 


ON  TASTE.  79 

gether  as  great  as  the  taste  can  be  supposed  to  work  with  ; 
and  yet  where  nothing  but  plain  reason  either  is  or  can  be 
suspected  to  operate.  To  multiply  principles  for  every  dif- 
ferent appearance,  is  useless,  and  unphilosophical  too  in  a 
high  degree. 

This  matter  might  be  pursued  niuch  farther  ;  but  it  is  not 
the  extent  of  the  subject  which  must  prescribe  our  bounds, 
for  what  subject  does  not  branch  out  to  infinity  ?  it  is  the 
nature  of  our  particular  scheme,  and  the  single  point  of  view 
in  which  we  consider  it,  which  ought  to  put  a  stop  to  our  re- 
searches. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY 


INTO    THE 


ORIGIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS 


OF    THE 


SUBLIME  AND  BEAUTIFUL. 


^  .^^.  ^ — .^^..  — ■  ~"—f — ■ — - — rlitn a"im 

PART       I. 
SECTION  I. 

NOVELTY. 


JL  HE  first  and  the  simplest  emotion  which 
we  discover  in  the  human  mind,  is  Curiosity.  B  y  curiosity 
i  mean  whatever  desire  we  have  for,  or  whatever  pleasure  we 
take  in,  novelty.  We  see  children  perpetually  running  from 
place  to  place  to  hunt  out  something  new  :  they  catch  with 
great  eagerness,  and  with  very  little  choice,  at  whatever  comes 
before  them  j  their  attention  is  engaged  by  every  thing,  be- 
cause everything  has,  in  that  stage  of  life,  the  charm  of  nov- 
elty to  recommend  it.  But  as  those  things  which  engage 
us  merely  by  their  novelty,  cannot  attach  us  for  any  length 
of  time,  curiosity  is  the  most  superficial  of  all  the  affections  : 
it  changes  its  object  perpetually  j  it  tas  an  appetite  which  is 
very  sharp,  but  very  easily  satisfied  ;  and  it  has  always  an  ap- 
pearance of  giddiness,  restlessness  and  anxiety.  Curios- 
ity, from  its  nature,  is  a  very  active  principle  ;  it  quickly 
runs  over  the  greatest  part  of  its  objects,  and  soon  exhausts 
the  variety  which  is  commonly  to  be  met  with  in  nature  ;  the 
same  things  make  frequent  returns,  and  they  return  with  less 
and  less  of  any  agreeable  effect.  In  short,  the  occurrences 
of  life,  by  the  time  we  come  to  kaow  it  a  little,  would  be  i»- 
Voi..  I.  N 


S2  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

capable  of  affecting  the  mind  with  any  other  sensations  than 
those  of  loathing  and  weariness,  if  many  things  were  not  a- 
dapted  to  affect  the  mind  by  means  of  other  powers  besides 
novelty  in  them,  and  of  other  passions  besides  curiosity  in 
ourselves.  These  powers  and  passions  shall  be  considered 
in  their  place.  But  whatever  these  powers  are,  or  upon  what 
principle  soever  they  affect  the  mind,  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  they  should  not  be  exerted  in  those  things  which 
a  daily  vulgar  use  have  brought  into  a  stale  unaffecting  fa- 
miliarity. Some  degree  of  novelty  must  be  one  of  the  ma- 
terials in  every  instrument  which  works  upon  the  mirxl  j 
and  curiosity  blends  itself  more  or  less  with  all  our  passions. 

SECT.  IL 

PAIN    AND    PLEASURE. 

IT  seems  then  necessary  towards  moving  the  passions  of 
people  advanced  in  life  to  any  considerable  degree,  that  the 
objects  designed  for  that  purpose,  besides  their  being  in  some 
measure  new,  should  be  capable  of  exciting  pain  or  pleasure 
from  other  causes.  Pain  and  pleasure  are  simple  ideas,  in- 
capable of  definition.  People  are  not  liable  to  be  mistaken 
in  their  feelings,  but  they  are  very  frequently  wrong  in  the 
names  tliey  give  them,  and  in  their  reasonings  about  them. 
Many  are  of  opinion,  that  pain  arises  necessarily  from  the  re- 
moval of  some  pleasure  ;  as  they  think  pleasure  does  from 
the  ceasing  or  diminution  of  some  pain.  For  my  part,  I  am 
rather  inclined  to  imagine,  that  pain  and  pleasure,  in  their 
most  simple  and  natural  manner  of  affecting,  are  each  of  a 
positive  nature,  and  by  no  means  necessarily  dependent  on 
each  other  for  their  existence.  The  human  mind  is  often, 
and  I  think  it  is  for  the  most  part,  in  a  state  neither  of  pain 
nor  pleasure,  which  I  call  a  state  of  indifference.  When  I 
am  carried  from  this  state  into  a  state  of  actual  pleasure,  it 
does  not  appear  necessary  that  I  should  pass  through  the  me- 
dium of  any  sort  of  pain.  If  in  such  a  state  of  indifference, 
or  ease,  or  tranquillity,  or  call  it  what  you  please,  you  were 
to  be  suddenly  entertained  with  a  concert  of  musick  j    or 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  85 

suppose  some  object  of  a  fine  shape,  and  bright  lively  colours, 
to  be  presented  before  you  ;  or  imagine  your  smell  is  gratifi- 
ed with  the  fragrance  of  a  rose  ;  or  if  without  any  previous 
thirst  you  were  to  drink  of  some  pleasant  kind  of  wine,  or  to 
taste  of  some  sweetmeat  without  being  hungry  ;  in  all  the 
several  senses,  of  hearing,  smelling,  and  tasting,  you  undoubt- 
edly find  a  pleasure  ;  yet  if  I  inquire  into  the  state  of  your 
mind  previous  to  these  gratifications,  you  will  hardly  tell  me 
that  they  found  you  in  any  kind  of  pain  ;  or,  having  satisfi- 
ed these  several  senses  with  their  several  pleasures,  will  you 
say  that  any  pain  has  succeeded,  though  the  pleasure  is  abso- 
lutely over  ?  Suppose,  on  the  other  hand,  a  man  in  the  same 
state  of  indifi^erence,  to  receive  a  violent  blow,  or  to  drink  of 
some  bitter  potion,  or  to  have  his  ears  wounded  with  some 
harsh  and  grating  sound  j  here  is  no  removal  of  pleasure  ; 
and  yet  here  is  felt,  in  every  sense  Avhich  is  affected,  a  pain 
very  distinguishable.  It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  the  pain 
in  these  cases  had  its  rise  from  the  removal  of  the  pleasure 
which  the  man  enjoyed  before,  though  that  pleasure  was  of 
so  low  a  degree  as  to  be  perceived  only  by  the  removal.  But 
this  seems  to  me  a  subtiltv,  that  is  not  discoverable  in  nature. 
For  if,  previous  to  the  pain,  I  do  not  feel  any  actual  pleasure, 
I  have  no  reason  to  judge  that  any  such  thing  exists  j  since 
pleasure  is  only  pleasure  as  it  is  felt.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  pain,  and  with  equal  reason.  I  can  never  persuade  my- 
self that  pleasure  and  pain  are  mere  relations,  which  can  on- 
ly exist  as  they  are  contrasted  ;  but  I  think  I  can  discern 
clearly  that  there  are  positive  pains,  and  pleasures,  which  do 
not  at  all  depend  upon  each  other.  Nothing  is  more  certain 
to  my  own  feelings  than  this.  There  is  nothing  which  I  can 
distinguish  in  my  mind  with  more  clearness  than  the  three 
states,  of  indifference,  of  pleasure,  and  of  pain.  Every  one 
of  these  I  can  perceive  without  any  sort  of  idea  of  its  relation 
to  any  thing  else.  Caius  is  afflicted  with  a  fit  of  the  cholick  ; 
this  man  is  actually  in  pain  ;  stretch  Caius  upon  the  rack,  he 
will  feel  a  much  greater  pain  :  but  does  this  pain  of  the  rack 
arise  from  the  removal  of  any  pleasure  ?  or  is  the  fit  of  the 
cholick  a  pleasure  or  a  pain  just  as  we  are  pleased  to  consid- 
er it  ? 


84  ON  THE  SUBLlMi 

SECT.  III. 

THE    DIFFERENCE    BETWEEN    THE    REMOVAL    OF     PAIN    AND 

POSITIVE    PLEASURE. 

"WE  shall  carry  this  proposition  yet  a  step  farther.     We 
shall  venture  to  propose,  that  pain  and  pleasure  are  not  only 
not  necessarily  dependent  for  their  existence  on  their  mutual 
diminution  or  removal,  but  that,  in  reality,  the  diminution 
or   ceasing  of  pleasure  does  not  operate  like  positive    pain  ; 
and  that  the  removal  or  diminution  of  pain,  in  its  effect, 
has  very  little  resemblance  to  positive  pleasure.*     The  form- 
er of  these  propositions  will,  I  believe,  be  much  more  readi- 
ly allowed  than  the  latter  ;  because  it  is  very  evident  that 
pleasure,  when  it  has  run  its  career,  sets  us  down  very  near- 
ly where  it  found  us.     Pleasure  of  every  kind  quickly  satis- 
fies 5  and  when  it   is  over,  we  relapse  into   indifference,  or 
rather  we   fall  into  a    soft  tranquillity,  which  is  tinged  with 
the  agreeable  colour  of  the    former  sensation.     I  own  it  is 
not  at  first  view  so   apparent,  that  the  removal  of  a  great 
pain  does  not  resemble  positive  pleasure  ;  but  let  us  recollect 
in  what  state  we  have  found  our  minds  upon   escaping  some 
imminent  danger,  or  on  being  released  from  the  severity  of 
some  cruel  pain.     We  have  on  such  occasions  found,  if  I  am 
not  much  mistaken,  the  temper  of  our  minds  in  a   tenour 
very  remote  from  that  which  attends  the  presence  of  positive 
pleasure  ;  we  have  found  them  in  a  state  of  much  sobriety, 
impressed  with  a  sense  of  awe,  in  a  sort  of  tranquillity  shad- 
owed with  horrour.     The  fashion  of  the  countenance  and 
the  gesture  of  the  body  on  such  occasions    is  so  correspond- 
ent to  this  state  of  mind,  that  any  person,  a  stranger  to  the 
cause  of  the  appearance,  would  rather  judge  us  under  some 
consternation,  than  in  the  enjoyment  of  any  thing  like  posi- 
tive pleasure. 

*  Mr.  Locke  [Essay  on  Human  Understanding,  1.  ii.  c.  20.  sect.  16.]  thinks 
that  the  removal  or  lessening  of  a  pain  is  considered  and  operates  as  a  pleas- 
ure, and  the  loss  or  diminishing  of  pleasure  as  a  pain.  It  is  this  opinion 
which  we  consider  here. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  ^5 

<l?u\a  )ccilci)c'^iivxif  eiXXov  s^wsro  ovjf^ciif 

Iliad.  2-1. 

^j  ty^fw  ^3!  wretch  J  nvhoy  conscious  of  his  crimef 
Pursued  for  murder  from  his  native  climes 
Just  gains  some  frofitiery  breathless j  paky  ama^d  ; 
All  gazcy  all  wonder  ! 

This  striking  appearance  of  the  man  whom  Homer  supposes 
to  have  just  escaped  an  imminent  danger,  the  sort  of  mixed 
passion  of  terrour  and  surprise,  with  which  he  affects  the 
spectators,  paints  very  strongly  the  manner  in  which  we  find, 
ourselves  affected  upon  occasions  any  way  similar.  For  when 
We  have  suffered  from  any  violent  emotion,  the  mind  natur- 
ally continues  in  something  like  the  same  condition,  after 
the  cause  which  first  produced  it  has  ceased  to  operate.  The 
tossing  of  the  sea  remains  after  the  storm  j  and  when  this 
remain  of  horrour  has  entirely  subsided,  alF  the  passion, 
which  the  accident  raised,  subsides  along  Avith  it  ;  and  the 
mind  returns  to  its  usual  state  of  indifference.  In  short, 
pleasure,  (I  mean  any  thing  either  in  the  inward  sensation, 
or  in  the  outward  appearance,  like  pleasure  from  a  positive 
cause)  has  never,  I  imagine,  its  origin  from  the  removal  of 
pain  or  danger. 

SECT.  IV. 

OF   DELIGHT    AND   PLEASURE   AS   OPPOSED  TO  EACH  OTHElt* 

BUT  shall  we  therefore  say,  that  the  removal  of  pain  or 
its  diminution  is  always  simply  painful  ?  or  affirm  that  the 
cessation  or  the  lessening  of  pleasure  is  always  attended  itself 
with  a  pleasure  ?  By  no  means.  What  I  advance  is  no  more 
than  this  ;  first,  that  there  are  pleasures  and  pains  of  a  posi- 
tive and  independent  nature  ;  and  secondly,  that  the  feeling 
which  results  from  the  ceasing  or  diminution  of  pain  does 
not  bear  a  sufficient  resemblance  to  positive  pleasure,  to  have 


fid  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

it  considered  as  of  the  same  nature,  or  to  entitle  it  to  be 
known  by  the  same  name  ;  and  thirdly,  that  upon  the  same 
principle  the  removal  or  qualification  of  pleasure  has  no  re- 
semblance to  positive  pain.  It  is  certain  that  the  former 
feeling  (the  removal  or  moderation  of  pain)  has  something 
in  it  far  from  distressing  or  disagreeable  in  its  nature.  This 
feeling,  in  many  cases  so  agreeable,  but  in  all  so  different 
from  positive  pleasure,  has  no  name  which  I  know  ;  but 
that  hinders  not  its  being  a  very  real  one,  and  very  different 
from  all  others.  It  is  most  certain,  that  every  species  of  sat- 
isfaction or  pleasure,  how  different  soever  in  its  manner  of 
affecting,  is  of  a  positive  nature  in  the  mind  of  him  who 
feels  it.  The  affection  is  undoubtedly  positive  ;  but  the 
cause  may  be,  as  in  this  case  it  certainly  is,  a  sort  of  Priva- 
tion. And  it  is  very  reasonable  that  -we  should  distinguish 
by  some  term  two  things  so  distinct  in  nature,  as  a  pleasure 
that  is  such  simply,  and  without  any  relation,  from  that 
pleasure  which  cannot  exist  without  a  relation,  and  that  too 
a  relation  to  pain.  Very  extraordinary  it  would  be,  if  these 
affections,  so  distinguishable  in  their  causes,  so  different  ia 
their  effects,  should  be  confounded  with  each  other,  because 
vulgar  use  has  ranged  them  under  the  same  general  title. 
Whenever  I  have  occasion  to  speak  of  this  species  of  rela- 
tive pleasure,  I  call  it  Delight ;  and  I  shall  take  the  best  care 
I  can,  to  use  that  word  in  no  other  sense.  I  am  satisfied 
the  word  is  not  commonly  used  in  this  appropriated  signifi- 
cation J  but  I  thought  it  better  to  take  up  a  word  already 
known,  and  to  limit  its  signification,  than  to  introduce  a 
new  one,  which  would  not  perhaps  incorporate  so  well  with 
the  language.  I  should  never  have  presumed  the  least  al- 
teration in  our  words,  if  the  nature  of  the  language,  framed 
for  the  purposes  of  business  rather  than  those  of  philosophy, 
and  the  nature  of  my  subject,  that  leads  me  out  of  the  com- 
mon track  of  discourse,  did  not  in  a  manner  necessitate  me 
to  it.  I  shall  make  use  of  this  liberty  with  all  possible  cau- 
tion. As  I  make  use  of  the  word  Delight  to  express  the 
sensation  which  accompanies  the  removal  of  pain  or  danger  ; 
so  when  I  speak  of  positive  pleasure,  I  shall  for  the  moit 
part  call  it  simply  Pleasure. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL,  S7 

SECT.  V. 

JOY    AND    GRIEF. 

IT  must  be  observed,  that  the  cessation  of  pleasure  affects 
the  mind  three  ways.  If  it  simply  ceases,  after  having  con- 
tinued a  proper  time,  the  effect  is  indifference  ;  if  it  be  ab- 
ruptly broken  off,  there  ensues  an  uneasy  sense  called  disap- 
pointment ;  if  the  object  be  so  totally  lost  that  there  is  no 
chance  of  enjoying  it  again,  a  passion  arises  in  the  mind, 
which  is  called  grief.  Now,  there  is  none  of  these,  not  even 
grief,  which  is  the  most  violent,  that  I  think  has  any  re- 
semblance to  positive  pain.  The  person  who  grieves,  suffers 
his  passion  to  grow  upon  him  ;  he  indulges  it,  he  loves  it  ; 
but  this  never  happens  in  the  case  of  actual  pain,  which  no 
man  ever  willingly  endured  for  any  considerable  time.  That 
grief  should  be  willingly  endured,  though  far  from  a  simply 
pleasing  sensation,  is  not  so  difficult  to  be  understood.  It  is 
the  nature  of  grief  to  keep  its  object  perpetually  in  its  eye, 
to  present  it  in  its  most  pleasurable  views,  to  repeat  all  the 
circumstances  that  attend  it,  even  to  the  last  minuteness  ; 
to  go  back  to  every  particular  enjoyment,  to  dwell  upon  each, 
and  to  find  a  thousand  new  perfections  in  all,  that  were  not 
sufficiently  understood  before  j  in  grief,  the  pleasure  is  still 
uppermost  •,  and  the  affliction  we  suffer  has  no  resemblance 
to  absolute  pain,  which  is  always  odious,  and  which  we  en- 
deavour to  shake  off  as  soon  as  possible.  The  Odyssey  of 
Homer,  which  abounds  with  so  many  natural  and  affecting 
images,  has  none  more  striking  than  those  which  Menelaus 
raises  of  the  calamitous  fate  of  his  friends,  and  his  own 
manner  of  feeling  it.  He  owns,  indeed,  that  he  often  gives 
himself  some  intermission  from  such  melancholy  reflections  ; 
but  he  observes,  too,  that,  melancholy  as  they  are,  they 
give  him  pleasure. 

IloX>iX}ci?  tv  fttyupetft  xci6?jfAiV6i  r,^irtfoiffi¥f 

AAA«]s  filV  Tl  you  <Ppeir«  ri^TTO^Xl,   «A/«]6  §'  c*vl( 


88  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

Still  in  short  intervals  of  pleasing  woe, 
Regardful  of  the  friendly  dues  I  owey 
I  to  the  glorious  dead,  for  ever  deary 
Indulge  the  tribute  of  a  grateful  tear. 

HoM.  Od.  iv. 

On  the  otlier  hand,  when  we  recover  our  health,  when  we 
escape  an  imminent  danger,  is  it  with  joy  that  we  are  affect- 
ed ?  The  sense  on  these  occasions  is  far  from  that  smooth 
and  voluptuous  satisfaction  which  the  assured  prospect  of 
pleasure  bestows.  The  delight  which  arises  from  the  modi- 
fications of  pain,  confesses  the  stock  from  whence  it  sprung, 
in  its  solid,  strong,  and  severe  nature. 

SECT.  VI. 

OF  THE   PASSIONS   WHICH    BELONG   TO   SELF-PRESERVATION. 

MOST  of  the  ideas  which  are  capable  of  making  a  pow- 
erful impression  on  the  mind,  whether  simply  of  Pain  or 
Pleasure,  or  of  the  modifications  of  those,  may  be  reduced 
very  nearly  to  these  two  heads,  self-preservatiofi  and  society  ; 
to  the  ends  of  one  or  the  other  of  which  all  our  passions  are 
calculated  to  answer.  The  passions  which  concern  self-pres- 
ervation, turn  mostly  on  pain  or  danger.  The  ideas  of />«/«, 
sickness  and  deathy  fill  the  mind  with  strong  emotions  of  hor- 
rour  ;  but  life  and  health,  though  they  put  us  in  a  capacity 
of  being  affected  with  pleasure,  they  make  no  such  impres- 
sion by  the  simple  enjoyment.  The  passions  therefore 
which  are  conversant  about  the  preservation  of  the  individu- 
al, turn  chiefly  on  pain  and  dangery  and  they  are  the  most 
powerful  of  all  the  passions. 

SECT.  VII. 

OF    THE    SUBLIME. 

WHATEVER  is  fitted  in  any  sort  to  excite  the  ideas  of 
pain  and  danger,  that  is  to  say,  whatever  is  in  any  sort  ter- 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  89 

t-ible,  or  Is  conversant  about  terrible  objects,  or  operates  in 
a  manner  analogous  to  terrour,  is  a  source  of  the  sublime  ; 
that  is,  it  is  productive  of  the  strongest  emotion  which  the 
mind  is  capable  of  feeling.  I  say  the  strongest  emotion,  be- 
cause I  am  satlsjEied  the  ideas  of  pain  are  much  more  power- 
ful than  those  which  enter  on  the  part  of  pleasure.  With- 
out all  doubt,  the  torments  which  we  may  be  made  to  suffer, 
are  milch  greater  in  their  effect  on  the  body  and  mind,  than 
any  pleasures  which  the  most  learned  voluptuary  could  sug- 
gest, or  than  the  liveliest  imagination,  and  the  most  sound 
and  exquisitely  sensible  body,  could  enjoy.  Nay,  I  am  in 
great  doubt  whether  any  man  could  be  found  who  would 
earn  a  life  of  the  most  perfect  satisfaction,  at  the  price  of 
ending  it  in  the  torments,  which  justice  inflicted  in  a  few 
hours  on  the  late  unfortunate  regicide  in  France.  But  as 
pain  is  stronger  in  Its  operation  than  pleasure,  so  death  is  in 
general  a  much  more  affecting  idea  than  pain ;  because  there 
are  very  few  pains,  however  exquisite,  which  are  not  pre- 
ferred to  death  :  nay,  what  generally  makes  pain  Itself,  if  I 
may  say  so,  more  painful,  is  that  it  is  considered  as  an  emis- 
sary of  this  king  of  terrours.  When  danger  or  pain  press 
too  nearly,  they  are  incapable  of  giving  any  delight,  and  are 
simply  terrible  ;  but  at  certain  distances,  and  with  certain 
modifications,  they  may  be,  and  they  are  delightful,  as  we 
every  day  experience.  The  cause  of  this  I  shall  endeavour 
to  investigate  hereafter. 

SECT.  VIII. 

OF    THE    PASSIONS    WHICH    BELONG    TO    SOCIETY. 

THE  Other  head  under  which  I  class  our  passions,  Is  that 
of  society^  which  maybe  divided  into  two  sorts.  1.  The  so- 
ciety of  the  sexes  J  which  answers  the  purpose  of  propagation  ; 
and  next,  that  more  general  society^  which  we  have  with 
men  and  with  other  animals,  and  which  we  may  in  some 
sort  be  said  to  have  even  with  the  inanimate  world.  The 
passions  belonging  to  the  preservation  of  the  individual,  turn 
wholly  on  pain  and  danger  :  those  which  belong  to  genera' 

Vol,.  I.  O 


90  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

t'lotif  have  their  orlghi  in  gratifications  and  pleasures  /  the 
pleasure  most  directly  belonging  to  this  purpose  is  of  a  lively 
character,  rapturous  and  violent,  and  confessedly  the  high- 
est pleasure  of  sense  ;  yet  the  absence  of  this  so  great  an 
enjoyment,  scarce  amounts  to  an  uneasiness  j  and,  except  at 
particular  times,  I  do  not  think  it  affects  at  all.  When  men 
describe  in  what  manner  they  are  affected  by  pain  and  dan- 
ger, they  do  not  dwell  on  the  pleasure  of  health  and  the 
comfort  of  security,  and  then  lament  the  loss  of  these  satis- 
factions :  the  whole  turns  upon  the  actual  pains  and  horrours 
which  they  endure.  But  if  you  listen  to  the  complaints  of 
a  forsaken  lover,  you  observe  that  he  insists  largely  on  the 
pleasures  which  he  enjoyed  or  hoped  to  enjoy,  and  on  the 
perfection  of  the  object  of  his  desires  •,  it  is  the  loss  which 
is  always  uppermost  in  his  mind.  The  violent  effects  pro- 
duced by  love,  which  has  sometimes  been  even  wrought  up 
to  madness,  is  no  objection  to  the  rule  which  we  seek  to  es- 
tablish. When  men  have  suffered  their  imaginations  to  be 
long  affected  with  any  idea,  it  so  wholly  engrosses  them  as 
to  shut  out  by  degrees  almost  every  other,  and  to  break 
down  every  partition  of  the  mind  which  would  confine  it. 
Any  idea  is  sufficient  for  the  purpose,  as  is  evident  from  the 
infinite  variety  of  causes,  which  give  rise  to  madness  ;  but 
this  at  most  can  only  prove  that  the  passion  of  love  is  capa- 
ble of  producing  very  extraordinary  effects,  not  that  its  ex- 
traordinary emotions  have  any  connection  with  positive  pain. 

SECT.  IX. 

THE  FINAL  CAUSE  OF  THE  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  THE 
PASSIONS  BELONGING  TO  SELF-PRESERVATION,  AND  THOSE 
WHICH    REGARD    THE    SOCIETY    OF    THE    SEXES. 

THE  final  cause  of  the  difference  in  character  between 
the  passions  which  regard  self-preservation  and  those  which 
are  directed  to  the  multiplication  of  the  species,  wnll  illus- 
trate the  foregoing  remarks  yet  further  ;  and  it  is,  I  imagine, 
worthy  of  observation  even  upon  its  own  account.  As  the 
performance  of  our  duties  of  every  kind  depends  upon  life, 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  91 

and  the  performing  them  with  vigour  and  efficacy  depends 
upon  health,  we  are  very  strongly  affected  with  whatever 
threatens  the  destruction  of  either  :  but  as  we  were  not 
made  to  acquiesce  in  life  and  health,  the  simple  enjoyment 
of  them  is  not  attended  with  any  real  pleasure,  lest,  satisfied 
with  that,  we  should  give  ourselves  over  to  indolence  and  in- 
action. On  the  other  hand,  the  generation  of  mankind  is  a 
great  purpose,  and  it  is  requisite  that  men  should  be  animat- 
ed to  the  pursuit  of  it  by  some  great  incentive.  It  is  there- 
fore attended  with  a  very  high  pleasure  ;  but  as  it  is  by  no 
means  designed  to  be  our  constant  business,  it  is  not  fit  that 
the  absence  of  .this  pleasure  should  be  attended  with  any  con- 
siderable pain.  The  difference  between  men  and  brutes  in 
this  point,  seems  to  be  remarkable.  Men  are  at  all  times 
pretty  equally  disposed  to  the  pleasures  of  love,  because  they 
are  to  be  guided  by  reason  in  the  time  and  manner  of  indulg- 
ing them.  Had  any  great  pain  arisen  from  the  want  of  this 
satisfaction,  reason,  I  am  afraid,  would  find  great  difficulties 
in  the  performance  of  its  office.  But  brutes,  who  obey  laws, 
in  the  execution  of  which  their  own  reason  has  but  little 
share,  have  their  stated  seasons  ;  at  such  times  it  is  not  im- 
probable that  the  sensation  from  the  want  is  very  trouble- 
some, because  the  end  must  be  then  answered,  or  be  missed 
in  many,  perhaps  forever  •,  as  the  inclination  returns  only 
with  its  season. 

SECT.    X. 

OF   BEAUTY. 

THE  passion  which  belongs  to  generation,  merely  as  such, 
is  lust  only.  This  is  evident  in  brutes,  whose  passions  are 
more  unmixed,  and  which  pursue  their  purposes  more  di- 
rectly than  ours.  The  only  distinction  they  observe  with  re- 
gard to  their  mates,  is  that  of  sex.  It  is  true,  that  they 
stick  severally  to  their  own  species  in  preference  to  all  others. 
But  this  preference,  I  imagine,  does  not  arise  from  any  sense 
of  beauty  which  they  find  in  their  species,  as  Mr.  Addison 
supposes,  but  from  a  law  of  some  other  kind,  to  which  they 


92  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

are  subject ;  and  this  we  may  fairly  conclude,  from  their  ap- 
parent want  of  choice  amongst  those  objects  to  which  the 
barriers  of  their  species  have  confined  them.  But  man,  who 
is  a  creatui'c  adapted  to  a  greater  variety  and  intricacy  of  re- 
lation, connects  with  the  general  passion,  the  idea  of  some 
social  qualities,  which  direct  and  heighten  the  appetite  which 
he  has  in  common  with  all  other  animals  ;  and  as  he  is  not 
designed  like  them  to  live  at  large,  it  is  fit  that  he  should 
have  something  to  create  a  preference,  and  fix  his  choice  ; 
and  this  in  general  should  be  some  sensible  quality  ;  as  no 
other  can  so  quickly,  so  powerfully,  or  so  surely  produce  its 
effect.  The  object  therefore  of  this  mixed'passion,  which 
we  call  love,  is  the  beauty  of  the  j-<?.v.  Men  are  carried  to 
the  sex  in  general,  as  it  is  the  sex,  and  by  the  common  law 
of  nature  ;  but  they  are  attached  to  particulars  by  personal 
beauty.  I  call  beauty  a  social  quality  ;  for  when  women  and 
men,  and  not  only  they,  but  when  other  animals  give  us  a 
sense  of  joy  and  pleasure  in  beholding  them  (and  there  are 
many  that  do  so),  they  inspire  us  with  sentiments  of  tender- 
ness and  affection  towards  their  persons ;  we  like  to  have 
them  near  us,  and  we  enter  willingly  into  a  kind  of  relation 
with  them,  unless  we  should  have  strong  reasons  to  the  con- 
trary. But  to  what  end,  in  many  cases,  this  was  designed, 
I  am  unable  to  discover  ;  for  I  see  no  greater  reason  for  a 
connection  between  man  and  several  animals  who  are  attired 
in  so  engaging  a  manner,  than  between  him  and  some  others 
who  entirely  want  this  attraction,  or  possess  it  in  a  far  weak- 
er degree.  But  it  is  probable,  that  Providence  did  not 
make  even  this  distinction,  but  with  a  view  to  some  great 
end,  though  we  cannot  perceive  distinctly  what  it  is,  as  his 
wisdom  is  not  our  wisdom,  nor  our  ways  his  ways. 

SECT.  XI. 

SOCIETY    AND    SOLITUDE. 

THE  second  branch  of  the  social  passions  is  that  which 
administers  to  society  in  general.  With  regard  to  this,  I  ob- 
serve, that  society,  merely  as  society,  without  any  particular 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  95 

heightenlngs,  gives  us  no  positive  pleasure  In  the  enjoyment ; 
but  absolute  and  entire  solitude^  that  is,  the  total  and  perpetu- 
al exclusion  from  all  society,  is  as  great  a  positive  pain  as  can 
almost  be  conceived.  Therefore  in  the  balance  between  the 
pleasure  of  general  society^  and  the  pain  of  absolute  solitude, 
pain  is  the  predominant  idea.  But  the  pleasure  of  any  par- 
ticular social  enjoyment  outweighs  very  considerably  the  un- 
easiness caused  by  the  want  of  that  particular  enjoyment  ;  so 
that  the  strongest  sensations  relative  to  the  habitudes  of ^ar//- 
cular  society y  are  sensations  of  pleasure.  Good  company,  lively 
conversations,  and  the  endearments  of  friendship,  fill  the  mind 
with  great  pleasure  5  a  temporary  solitude,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  itself  agreeable.  This  may  perhaps  prove  that  we  are  crea- 
tures designed  for  contemplation  as  well  as  action  ;  since  sol- 
itude as  well  as  society  has  its  pleasures  ;  as  from  the  former 
observation  we  may  discern,  that  an  entire  life  of  solitude 
contradicts  the  purposes  of  our  being,  since  death  itself  is 
scarcely  an  idea  of  more  terrour. 

SECT.  XII. 

SYMPATHY,  IMITATION,  AND  AMBITION. 

UNDER  this  denomination  of  society,  the  passions  are  of 
a  complicated  kind,  and  branch  out  into  a  variety  of  forms  a- 
greeable  to  that  variety  of  ends  they  are  to  serve  in  the  great 
chain  of  society.  The  three  principal  links  in  this  chain  are 
sympathyy  imitationy  and  ambition. 

SECT.  XIII. 

SYMPATHY. 

IT  is  by  the  first  of  these  passions  that  we  enter  Into  the 
concerns  of  others  ;  that  we  are  moved  as  they  are  moved, 
and  are  never  suffered  to  be  indifferent  spectators  of  almost 
any  thing  which  men  can  do  or  suffer.  For  sympathy  must 
be  considered  as  a  sort  of  substitution,  by  which  we  are  put 
into  the  place  of  another  man,  and  affeeted  in  many  respects 


9i  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

as  he  is  affected  :  so  that  this  passion  may  either  partake  o( 
the  nature  of  those  which  regard  self-preservation,  and  turn- 
ing upon  pain  may  be  a  source  of  the  subUme  ;  or  it  may 
turn  upon  ideas  of  pleasure  ;  and  then  Avhatever  has  been 
said  of  the  social  affections,  whether  they  regard  society  in 
general,  or  only  some  particular  modes  of  it,  may  be  applica- 
ble here.  It  is  by  this  principle  chiefly  that  poetry,  painting, 
and  other  affecting  arts,  transfuse  their  passions  from  one 
breast  to  another,  and  are  often  capable  of  grafting  a  delight 
on  wretchedness,  misery,  and  death  itself.  It  is  a  common 
observation,  that  objects  which  in  the  reality  would  shock, 
are  in  tragical,  and  such  like  representations,  the  source  of  a 
very  high  species  of  pleasure.  This  taken  as  a  fact,  has  been 
the  cause  of  much  reasoning.  The  satisfaction  has  been 
commonly  attributed,  first,  to  the  comfort  we  receive  in  con- 
sidering that  so  melancholy  a  story  is  no  more  than  a  fiction  ; 
and  next,  to  the  contemplation  of  our  own  freedom  from  the 
evils  which  we  see  represented.  I  am  afraid  it  is  a  practice 
much  too  common  in  enquiries  of  this  nature,  to  attribute  the 
cause  of  feelings  which  merely  arise  from  the  mechanical 
structure  of  our  bodies,  or  from  the  natural  frame  and  con- 
stitution of  our  minds,  to  certain  conclusions  of  the  reasoning 
faculty  on  the  objects  presented  to  us  j  for  I  should  imagine, 
that  the  influence  of  reason  in  producing  our  passions  is  noth- 
ing near  so  extensive  as  it  is  commonly  believed. 

SECT.  XIV. 

THE  EFFECTS  OF  SYMPATHY  IN  THE  DISTRESSES  OF  OTHERS. 

TO  examine  this  point  concerning  the  effect  of  tragedy  in 
a  proper  manner,  we  must  previously  consider  how  we  are 
affected  by  the  feelings  of  our  fellow-creatures  in  circumstan- 
ces of  real  distress.  I  am  convinced  we  have  a  degree  of  de- 
light, and  that  no  small  one,  in  the  real  misfortunes  and  pains 
of  others  j  for  let  the  affection  be  what  it  will  in  appearance, 
if  it  does  not  make  us  shun  such  objects,  if  on  the  contrary 
it  induces  us  to  approach  them,  if  it  makes  us  dwell  upon 
thena,  in  this  case  I  conceive  we  must  have  a  delight  or  pleas- 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  95 

lire  of  some  species  or  other  in  contemplating  objects  of  this 
kind.     Do  we  not  read  the  authentick  histories  of  scenes  of 
this   nature  with  as  much  pleasure  as  romances   or  poems, 
where  the  incidents  are  fictitious  ?  The  prosperity  of  no  em- 
pire, nor  the  grandeur  of  no  king,  can  so  agreeably  affect  in 
the  reading,  as  the  ruin  of  the  state  of  Macedon,  and  the  dis- 
tress of  its  unhappy  prince.     Such  a  catastrophe  touches  us 
in  history  as  much  as  the  destruction  of  Troy  does  in  fable. 
Our  delight,  in  cases  of  this  kind,  is  very  greatly  heightened, 
if  the  sufferer  be  some  excellent  person  who  sinks  under  an 
unworthy  fortune.    Scipio  and  Cato  are  both  virtuous  charac- 
ters J  but  we  are  more  deeply  affected  by  the  violent  death  of 
the  one,  and  the  ruin  of  the  great  cause  he  adhered  to,  than 
with  the  deserved  triumphs  and  uniterrupted  prosperity  of 
the  other  ;  for  terrour  is  a  passion  which  always  produces  de- 
light when  it  does  not  press  too  close  ;  and  pity  is  a  passion 
accompanied  with  pleasure,  because  it  arises  from  love  and  so- 
cial affection.    Whenever  we  are  formed  by  nature  to  any  ac- 
tive purpose,  the  passion  which  animates  us  to  it,  is  attended 
with  delight,  or  a  pleasure  of  some  kind,  let  the  subject-mat- 
ter be  what  it  will ;  and  as  our  Creator  has  designed  we  should 
be  united  by  the  bond  of  sympathy,  he  has  strengthened  that 
bond  by  a  proportionable  delight  ;  and  there  most  where  our 
-sympathy  is  most  wanted,  in  the  distresses  of  others.     If  this 
passion  was  simply  painful,  we  would  shun  with  the  greatest 
-care  all  persons  and  places  that  could  excite  such  a  passion  ; 
as  some,  who  are  so  far  gone  in  indolence  as  not  to  endure  any 
strong  impression,  actually  do.     But  the  case   is  widely  dif- 
ferent with  the  greater  part  of  mankind  ;  there  is  no  specta- 
cle we  so  eagerly  pursue,  as  that  of  some  uncommon  and 
grievous  calamity  ;  so  that  whether  the  misfortune  is  before 
our  eyes,  or  whether  they  are  turned  back  to  it  in  history,  it 
always  touches  with  delight.    This  is  not  an  unmixed  delight, 
but  blended  with  no  small  uneasiness.     The  delight  we  have 
in  such  things,  hinders  us  from  shunning  scenes  of  misery  ; 
and  the  pain  we  feel,  prompts  us  to  relieve  ourselves  in  re- 
lieving those  who  suffer  ;  and  all  this  antecedent  to  any  rea- 
soning, by  an  instinct  that  works  us  to  its  own  purposes  with- 
out our  concurrence. 


9S  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

SECT.  XV. 

'  OF    THE   EFFECTS   OF    TRAGEDY. 

IT  is  thus  in  real  calamities.  In  imitated  distresses  the 
only  difference  is  the  pleasure  resulting  from  the  effects  of 
imitation  ;  for  it  is  never  so  perfect,  but  we  can  perceive  it 
is  imitation,  and  on  that  principle  are  somewhat  pleased  with 
it.  And  indeed  in  some  cases  we  derive  as  much  or  more 
pleasure  from  that  source  than  from  the  thing  itself.  But 
then  I  imagine  we  shall  be  much  mistaken  if  we  attribute  a- 
ny  considerable  part  of  our  satisfaction  in  tragedy  to  the  con- 
sideration that  tragedy  is  a  deceit,  and  its  representations  no 
realities.  The  nearer  it  approaches  the  reality,  and  the  fur- 
ther it  removes  us  from  all  idea  of  fiction,  the  more  perfect 
is  its  power.  But  be  its  power  of  what  kind  it  will,  it  never 
approaches  to  what  it  represents.  Choose  a  day  on  which 
to  represent  the  most  sublime  and  affecting  tragedy  we  have  j 
appoint  the  most  favorite  a£lors  ;  spare  no  cost  upon  the 
scenes  and  decorations  ;  unite  the  greatest  efforts  of  poetry, 
painting,  and  musick  ;  and  when  you  have  collected  your 
audience,  just  at  the  moment  when  their  minds  are  erect 
with  expectation,  let  it  be  reported  that  a  state  criminal  of 
high  rank  is  on  the  point  of  being  executed  in  the  adjoining 
square  ;  in  a  moment  the  emptiness  of  the  theatre  would 
demonstrate  the  comparative  weakness  of  the  imitative  arts, 
and  proclaim  the  triumph  of  the  real  sympathy.  I  believe 
that  this  notion  of  our  having  a  simple  pain  in  the  reality, 
yet  a  delight  in  the  representation,  arises  from  hence,  that 
we  do  not  sufficiently  distinguish  what  we  would  by  no  means 
choose  to  do,  from  what  we  should  be  eager  enough  to  see 
if  it  was  once  done.  We  delight  in  seeing  things,  which  so 
far  from  doing,  our  heartiest  wishes  would  be  to  see  redress- 
ed. This  noble  capital,  the  pride  of  England  and  of  Europe, 
I  believe  no  man  is  so  strangely  wicked  as  to  desire  to  see  de- 
stroyed by  a  conflagration  or  an  earthquake,  though  he  should 
be  removed  himself  to  the  greatest  distance  from  the  dan- 
ger.    But  suppose  such  a  fi;tal  accident  to  have  happened. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  97 

tvliat  numbers  from  all  parts  would  crowd  to  behold  the  ru- 
ins, and  amongst  them  many  who  would  have  been  content 
never  to  have  seen  London  in  its  glory  !  Nor  is  it,  either  in 
real  or  fictitious  distresses,  our  immunity  from  them  which 
produces  our  delight ;  in  my  own  mind  I  can  discover  noth- 
ing like  it.  I  apprehend  that  this  mistake  is  owing  to  a 
sort  of  sophism,  by  which  we  are  frequently  imposed  upon  ; 
it  arises  from  our  not  distinguishing  between  what  is  indeed 
a  necessary  condition  to  our  doing  or  suffering  any  thing  in 
general,  and  Avhat  is  the  cause  of  some  particular  act.  If  a 
man  kills  me  with  a  sword,  it  is  a  necessary  condition  to  this 
that  we  should  have  been  both  of  us  alive  before  the  fact  ; 
and  yet  it  would  be  absurd  to  say,  that  our  being  both  living 
creatures  was  the  cause  of  his  crime  and  of  my  death.  So 
it  is  certain,  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  my  life  should  be 
out  of  any  imminent  hazard,  before  I  can  t^ke  a  delight  in 
the  sufferings  of  others,  real  or  imaginary,  or  indeed  in  any 
thing  else  from  any  cause  whatsoever.  But  then  it  is  a  soph- 
ism to  argue  from  thence,  that  this  immunity  is  the  cause 
of  my  delight  either  on  these  or  on  any  occasions.  No  one  can 
distinguish  such  a  cause  of  satisfaction  in  his  own  mind,  I  be- 
lieve ',  nay,  when  we  do  not  suffer  any  very  acute  pain,  nor 
are  exposed  to  any  imminent  danger  of  our  lives,  we  can  feel 
for  others,  whilst  we  suffer  ourselves  ;  and  often  then  most 
when  we  are  softened  by  affliction  ;  we  see  with  pity  even 
distresses  which  we  would  accept  in  the  place  of  our  own. 

SECT.  XVL 

IMITATION. 

THE  second  passion  belonging  to  society  is  imitation,  of, 
if  you  will,  a  desire  of  imitating,  and  consequently  a  pleasure 
in  it.  This  passion  arises  from  much  the  same  cause  with 
sympathy.  For  as  sympathy  makes  us  take  a  concern  in 
whatever  men  feel,  so  this  affection  prompts  us  to  copy  what- 
ever they  do ;  and  consequently  we  have  a  pleasure  in  imitat- 
ing, and  in  whatever  belongs  to  imitation  merely  as  it  is  such, 
without  any  intervention  of  the  reasoning  faculty  j  but  sole- 

VOL.  I.  P 


98  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

ly  from  our  natural  constitution,  which  Providence  has  fram- 
ed in  such  a  manner  as  to  find  either  pleasure  or  delight,  ac- 
cording to  the  nature  of  the  object,  in  whatever  regards  the 
purposes  of  our  being.  It  is  by  imitation  far  more  than  by 
precept,  that  we  learn  every  thing  ;  and  what  we  learn  thus, 
we  acquire  not  only  more  effectually,  but  more  pleasantly. 
This  forms  our  manners,  our  opinions,  our  lives.  It  is  one 
of  the  strongest  links  of  society  ;  it  is  a  species  of  mutual 
compliance,  which  all  men  yield  to  each  other,  without  con- 
straint to  themselves,  and  which  is  extremely  flattering  to  all. 
Herein  it  is  that  painting  and  many  other  agreeable  arts  have 
laid  one  of  the  principal  foundations  of  their  power.  And 
since,  by  its  influence  on  our  manners  and  our  passions,  it  is 
of  such  great  consequence,  I  fliall  here  venture  to  lay  down  a 
rule,  which  may  inform  us  with  a  good  degree  of  certainty 
when  we  are  to  attribute  the  power  of  the  arts  to  imitation, 
or  to  our  pleasure  in  the  skill  of  the  imitator  merely,  and 
when  to  sympathy,  or  some  other  cause  in  conjunction  with 
it.  When  the  object  represented  in  poetry  or  painting  is 
such  as  we  could  have  no  desire  of  seeing  in  the  reality,  then 
I  may  be  sure  that  its  power  in  poetry  or  painting  is  owing 
to  the  power  of  imitation,  and  to  no  cause  operating  in  the 
thing  itself.  So  it  is  with  most  of  the  pieces  which  the 
painters  call  still-life.  In  these  a  cottage,  a  dunghill,  the 
meanest  and  most  ordinary  utensils  of  the  kitchen,  are  ca- 
pable of  giving  us  pleasure.  But  when  the  object  of  the 
painting  or  poem  is  such  as  we  should  run  to  see  if  real,  let 
it  affect  us  with  what  odd  sort  of  sense  it  will,  we  may  rely 
upon  it,  that  the  power  of  the  poem  or  picture  is  more  ow- 
ing to  the  nature  of  the  thing  itself  than  to  the  mere  effect 
of  imitation,  or  to  a  consideration  of  the  skill  of  the  imi- 
tator, however  excellent.  Aristotle  has  spoken  so  much 
and  so  solidly  upon  the  force  of  imitation  in  his  Poeticks, 
that  it  makes  any  further  discourse  upon  this  subject  the 
less  necessary. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  99 

SECT.  XVII. 

AMBITION. 

ALTHOUGH  Imitation  is  one  of  the  great  instruments 
used  by  Providence  in  bringing  our  nature  towards  its  per- 
fection, yet  if  men  gave  themselves  up  to  imitation  entirely, 
and  each  followed  the  other,  and  so  on  in  an  eternal  circle, 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  there  never  could  be  any  improvement 
amongst  them.  Men  must  remain  as  brutes  do,  the  same 
at  the  end  that  they  are  at  this  day,  and  that  they  were  in 
the  beginning  of  the  world.  To  prevent  this,  God  has 
planted  in  man  a  sense  of  ambition,  and  a  satisfaction  aris- 
ing from  the  contemplation  of  his  excelling  his  fellows  in 
something  deemed  valuable  amongst  them.  It  is  this  passion 
that  drives  men  to  all  the  ways  we  see  In  use  of  signalizing 
themselves,  and  that  tends  to  make  whatever  excites  in  a 
man  the  idea  of  this  distinction  so  very  pleasant.  It  has 
been  so  strong  as  to  make  very  miserable  men  take  comfort, 
that  they  were  supreme  in  misery  -,  and  certain  it  is,  that 
where  we  cannot  distinguish  ourselves  by  something  excel- 
lent, we  begin  to  take  a  complacency  In  some  singular  In- 
firmities, follies,  or  defects  of  one  kind  or  other.  It  Is  on 
this  principle  that  flattery  is  so  prevalent  ;  for  flattery  Is  no 
more  than  what  raises  in  a  man's  mind  an  idea  of  a  prefer- 
ence which  he  has  not.  Now,  whatever,  either  on  good  or 
upon  bad  grounds,  tends  to  raise  a  man  in  his  own  opinion, 
produces  a  sort  of  swelling  and  triumph,  that  is  extremely 
grateful  to  the  human  mind ;  and  this  swelling  is  never  more 
perceived,  nor  operates  with  more  force,  than  when  without 
danger  we  are  converfant  with  terrible  objects,  the  mind 
always  claiming  to  Itself  some  part  of  the  dignity  and  impor- 
tance of  the  things  which  it  contemplates.  Hence  proceeds 
what  Longinus  has  observed  of  that  glorying  sense  of  Inward 
greatness,  that  always  fills  the  reader  of  such  passages  in  po- 
ets and  orators  as  are  sublime  •,  It  is  Avhat  every  man  must 
have  felt  in  himself  upon  such  occasions. 


ICO  TTT     ON  THE  SUBLIME 

SECT.  XVIII. 

THE    RECAPITULATION. 

TO  draw  the  whole  of  what  has  been  said  into  a  few  dis- 
tinct points  : — The  passions  which  belong  to  self-preserva- 
tion turn  on  pain  and  danger  j  they  are  simply  painful  when 
their  causes  immediately  affect  us  ;  they  are  delightful  when 
we  have  an  idea  of  pain  and  danger,  without  being  actually 
in  such  circumstances  j  this  delight  I  have  not  called  pleas- 
ure, because  it  turns  on  pain,  and  because  it  is  different 
enough  from  any  idea  of  positive  pleasure.  Whatever  ex- 
cites this  delight,  I  call  sublime.  The  passions  belonging  to 
self-preservation  are  the  strongest  of  all  the  passions. 

The  second  head  to  which  the  passions  are  referred  with 
relation  to  their  final  cause,  is  society.  There  are  two  sorts 
of  societies.  The  first  is,  the  society  of  sex.  The  passion  be- 
longing to  this  is  called  love,  and  it  contains  a  mixture  of 
lust  ;  its  object  is  the  beauty  of  women.  The  other  is  the 
great  society  with  man  and  all  other  animals.  The  passion 
subservient  to  this  is  called  likewise  love,  but  it  has  no  mix- 
ture of  lust,  and  its  object  is  beauty  ;  which  is  a  name  I  shall 
apply  to  all  such  qualities  in  things  as  induce  in  us  a  sense  of 
affection  and  tenderness,  or  some  other  passion  the  most 
nearly  resembling  these.  The  passion  of  love  has  its  rise  in 
positive  pleasure  ;  it  is,  like  all  things  which  grow  out  of 
pleasure,  capable  of  being  mixed  with  a  mode  of  uneasiness,' 
that  is,  when  an  idea  of  its  object  is  excited  in  the  mind  with 
an  idea  at  the  same  time  of  having  irretrievably  lost  it.  This 
mixed  sense  of  pleasure  I  have  not  called  paiuy  because  it 
turns  upon  actual  pleasure,  and  because  it  is,  both  in  its  cause 
and  in  most  of  its  effects,  of  a  nature  altogether  different. 

Next  to  the  general  passion  we  have  for  society,  to  a  choice 
in  which  we  are  directed  by  the  pleasure  we  have  in  the  ob- 
ject, the  particular  passion  under  this  head  called  sympathy 
has  the  greatest  extent.  The  nature  of  this  passion  is,  to 
put  us  in  the  place  of  another  in  whatever  circumstance  he 
is  in,  and  to  affect  us  in  a  like  manner  j  so  that  this  passion 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  101 

may,  as  the  occasion  requires,  turn  either  on  pain  or  pleas- 
ure ;  but  with  the  modifications  mentioned  in  some  cases  in 
sect.  11.  As  to  imitation  and  preference,  nothing  more 
need  be  said. 

SECT.  XIX. 

THE    CONCLUSION. 

I  BELIEVED  that  an  attempt  to  range  and  methodize 
some  of  our  most  leading  passions,  would  be  a  good  prepara- 
tive to  such  an  inquiry  as  we  are  going  to  make  in  the  en- 
suing discourse.  The  passions  I  have  mentioned  are  almost 
the  only  ones  which  it  can  be  necessary  to  consider  in  our 
present  design  ;  though  the  variety  of  the  passions  is  great, 
and  worthy  in  every  branch  of  that  variety  of  an  attentive 
investigation.  The  more  accurately  we  search  into  the  hu- 
man mind,  the  stronger  traces  we  every  where  find  of  his 
wisdom  who  made  it.  If  a  discourse  on  the  use  of  the  parts 
of  the  body  may  be  considered  as  an  hymn  to  the  Creator  ; 
the  use  of  the  passions,  which  are  the  organs  of  the  mind, 
cannot  be  barren  of  praise  to  him,  nor  unproductive  to 
ourselves  of  that  noble  and  uncommon  union  of  science  and 
admiration,  which  a  contemplation  of  the  works  of  infinite 
wisdom  alone  can  afford  to  a  rational  mind  ;  whilst,  refer- 
ring to  him  whatever  we  find  of  right  or  good  or  fair  in  our- 
selves, discovering  his  strength  and  wisdom  even  in  our  own 
weakness  and  imperfection,  honouring  them  where  we  dis- 
cover them  clearly,  and  adoring  their  profundity  where  we  are 
lost  in  our  search,  we  may  be  inquisitive  without  impertinence, 
and  elevated  without  pride  ;  we  may  be  admitted,  if  I  may 
dare  to  say  so,  into  the  counsels  of  the  Almighty  by  a  con- 
sideration of  his  works.  The  elevation  of  the  mind  ought  to 
be  the  principal  end  of  all  our  studies,  which  if  they  do  not 
in  some  measure  effect,  they  are  of  very  little  service  to  us. 
But,  besides  this  great  purpose,  a  consideration  of  the  ration- 
ale of  our  passions  seems  to  me  very  necessary  for  all  who 
would  affect  them  upon  solid  and  sure  principles.  It  is  not 
enough  to  know  them  in  general  :  to  affect  them  after  a  del-. 


102  ON  THE  SUBLIMK 

icate  manner,  or  to  judge  properly  of  any  work  designed  to 
affect  them,  we  should  know  the  exact  boundaries  of  their 
several  jurisdictions  ;  we  should  pursue  them  through  all 
their  variety  of  operations,  and  pierce  into  the  inmost,  and 
what  might  appear  inaccessible  parts  of  our  nature, 

Qiiod  latet  arcana  non  enarrahilc  jihrd. 

Without  all  this  it  is  possible  for  a  man,  after  a  confused 
manner,  sometimes  to  satisfy  his  own  mind  of  the  truth  of 
his  work  j  but  he  can  never  have  a  certain  determinate  rule 
to  go  by,  nor  can  he  ever  make  his  propositions  sufficiently 
clear  to  others.  Poets,  and  orators,  and  painters,  and  those 
who  cultivate  other  branches  of  the  liberal  arts,  have  without 
this  critical  knowledge  succeeded  well  in  their  several  prov- 
inces, and  will  succeed  ;  as  among  artificers  there  are  ma- 
ny machines  made  and  even  invented  without  any  exact 
knowledge  of  the  principles  they  are  governed  by.  It  is,  I 
own,  not  uncommon  to  be  wrong  in  theory  and  right  in 
practice  ;  and  we  are  happy  that  it  is  so.  Men  often  act 
right  from  their  feelings,  who  afterwards  reason  but  ill  on 
them  from  principle  ;  but  as  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  an  at- 
tempt at  such  reasoning,  and  equally  impossible  to  prevent  its 
having  some  influence  on  our  practice,  surely  it  is  worth  tak- 
ing some  pains  to  have  it  just,  and  founded  on  the  basis  of 
sure  experience.  We  might  expect  that  the  artists  themselves 
would  have  been  our  surest  guides  ;  but  the  artists  have  been 
too  much  occupied  in  the  practice  :  the  philosophers  have 
done  little  ;  and  what  they  have  done,  w^as  mostly  with  a 
view  to  their  own  schemes  and  systems  :  and  as  for  those 
called  criticks,  they  have  generally  sought  the  rule  of  the 
arts  in  the  wrong  place  ;  they  sought  it  among  poems,  pic- 
tures, engravings,  statues,  and  buildings.  But  art  can  never 
give  the  rules  that  make  an  art.  This  is,  I  believe,  the  rea- 
son why  artists  in  general,  and  poets  principally,  have  been 
confined  in  so  narrow  a  circle  -,  they  have  been  rather  imi- 
tators of  one  another  than  of  nature  ;  and  this  with  so  faith- 
ful an  uniformity,  and  to  so  remote  an  antiquity,  that  it  is 
hard  to  say  who  gave  the  first  model.     Criticks  follow  them. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  J  OS 

and  therefore  can  do  little  as  guides.  I  can  judge  but  poor- 
ly of  any  thing,  whilst  I  measure  it  by  no  other  standard  than 
itself.  The  true  standard  of  the  arts  is  in  every  man's  pow- 
er ',  and  an  easy  observation  of  the  most  common,  sometimes 
of  the  meanest  things  in  nature,  will  give  the  truest  lights, 
where  the  greatest  sagacity  and  industry  that  slights  such  ob- 
servation, must  leave  us  in  the  dark,  or,  what  is  worse,  amuse 
and  mislead  us  by  false  lights.  In  an  inquiry  it  is  almost  ev- 
ery thing  to  be  once  in  a  right  road.  I  am  satisfied  I  have 
done  but  little  by  these  observations  considered  in  themselves  ; 
and  I  never  should  have  taken  the  pains  to  digest  them, 
much  less  should  I  have  ever  ventured  to  publish  them,  if  I 
was  not  convinced  that  nothing  tends  more  to  the  corruption 
of  science  than  to  suffer  it  to  stagnate.  These  waters  must 
be  troubled  before  they  can  exert  their  virtues.  A  man  who 
works  beyond  the  surface  of  things,  though  he  may  be  wrong 
himself,  yet  he  clears  the  way  for  others,  and  may  chance  to 
make  even  his  errours  subservient  to  the  cause  of  truth.  In 
the  following  parts  I  shall  inquire  what  things  they  are  that 
cause  in  us  the  affections  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful,  as  in 
this  I  have  considered  the  affections  themselves.  I  only  de- 
sire one  favour,  that  no  part  of  this  discourse  may  be  judged 
of  by  itself,  and  independently  of  the  rest ;  for  I  am  sensible 
I  have  not  disposed  my  materials  to  abide  the  test  of  a  cap- 
tious controversy,  but  of  a  sober  and  even  forgiving  exami- 
nation ;  that  they  are  not  armed  at  all  points  for  battle,  but 
dressed  to  visit  those  who  are  willing  to  give  a  peaceful  en- 
trance to  truth. 


THE    END    OF    THE    FIRST   PART. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY 

INTO    THE 

ORIGIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS 

OF    THE 

SUBLIME  AND  BEAUTIFUL, 


PART       IL 
SECTION  L 

OF    THE    PASSION    CAUSED    BY    THE    SUBLIME. 

JL  HE  passion  caused  by  the  great  and  sublime 
in  nature^  when  those  causes  operate  most  powerfully,  is  a- 
stonlshment  ;  and  astonishment  is  that  state  of  the  soul,  in 
which  all  its  motions  are  suspended,  with  some  degree  of 
horrour.*  In  this  case  the  mind  is  so  entirely  filled  with  its 
object,  that  it  cannot  entertain  any  other,  nor  by  consequence 
reason  on  that  object  which  employs  it.  Hence  arises  the 
great  power  of  the  sublime,  that,  far  from  being  produced  by 
them,  it  anticipates  our  reasonings,  and  hurries  us  on  by  an 
irresistible  force.  Astonishment,  as  I  have  said,  is  the  effect 
of  the  sublime  in  its  highest  degree  ;  the  inferiour  effects 
are  admiration,  reverence,  and  respect. 

SECT.  II. 

TERROUR. 

NO  passion  so  effectually  robs  the  mind  of  all  its  powers 
of  acting  and  reasoning  as  fear,  f  For  fear  being  an  appre- 
hension of  pain  or  death,  it  operates  in  a  manner  that  resem- 

*  Part  I.  sect.  3,  4,  7.      f  Part  IV.  sect.  3,  4,  5,  6. 

Vol.  I.  Q 


r06  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

bles  actual  pain.     Whatever  therefore  is  terrible,  with  regard 
to  sight,  is  sublime  too,  whether  this  cause  of  terrour  be  en- 
dued with  greatness  of  dimensions  or  not  ;  for  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  look  on  any  thing   as  trifling,  or   contemptible,  that 
may  be  dangerous.     There  are  many  animals,  who  though 
far  from  being  large,  are  yet  capable  of  raising  ideas  of  the 
sublime,  because  they  are  considered  as  objects  of  terrour  ;  as 
serpents  and  poisonous  animals  of  almost  all  kinds.     And  to 
things  of  great  dimensions,  if  we  annex  an  adventitious  idea 
of  terrour,  they  become  without  comparison  greater.    A  lev- 
el plain  of  a  vast  extent  on  land,  is  certainly  no  mean  idea  j 
the  prospect  of  such  a  plain  may  be  as  extensive  as  a  prospect 
of  the  ocean  :  but  can  it  ever  fill  the  mind  with  any  thing  so- 
great  as  the  ocean  itself  ."*  This  is  owing  to  several  causes  j 
but  it  is  owing  to  none  more  than  this,  that  the  ocean  is  an. 
object  of  no  small  terrour.     Indeed  terrour   is   in  all  cases 
whatsoever,  either  more  openly  or  latently,  the  ruling  prin- 
ciple of  the  sublime.     Several  languages  bear  a  strong  testi- 
mony to  the  affinity  of  these  ideas.     They  frequently  use  the 
same  word,  to  signify  indifferently  the  modes  of  astonishment 
or  admiration  andtlxose  of  terrour.   ©^.wfoj  is  m  Greek,  either 
fear  or  wonder  j  htvo?  is  terrible  or  respectable  ;  xthto,  to  rev- 
erence or  to  fear.     Vereor  in  Latin,  is  what  ctihiu  is  in  Greeks 
The  Romans  used  the  verb  stupeo^  a  term  wliich  strongly 
marks  the  state  of  an  astonished  mind,  to  express  the  effect 
either  of  simple  fear,  or  of  astonishment  ;  the  word  attojiitus- 
(thunder-struck)  is  equally  expressive  of  the  alliance  of  these 
ideas  ;  and  do  not  the  French  etonnementy   and  the  English 
astonishment  and  amazement^  point  out  as  clearly  the  kindred' 
emotions  which  attend  fear  and  wonder  ?  They  who  have  a 
more  general  knowledge  of  languages,  could  produce,  I  make 
no  doubt,  many  other  and  equally  striking  examples. 

SECT.  III. 

OBSCURITY. 

TO  make  any  thing  very  terrible,  obscurity*  seems  in  gen- 
eral to  be  necessary.     When  we  know  the  full  extent  of  any 

*  Part  IV.  sect.  14,  15,  1«. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  107 

danger,  when  we  can  accustom  our  eyes  to  it,  a  great  deal  of 
the  apprehension  vanishes.  Every  one  will  be  sensible  of 
this,  who  considers  how  greatly  night  adds  to  our  dread,  in 
all  cases  of  danger,  and  how  much  the  notions  of  ghosts  and 
goblins,  of  which  none  can  form  clear  ideas,  affec::  minds 
which  give  credit  to  the  popular  tales  concerning  such  sorts 
of  beings.  Those  despotick  governments,  which  are  founded 
on  the  passions  of  men,  and  principally  upon  the  passion  of 
fear,  keep  their  chief  as  much  as  may  be  from  the  publick  eye. 
The  policy  has  been  the  same  in  many  cases  of  religion.  Al- 
most all  the  heathen  temples  were  dark.  Even  in  the  bai-- 
barous  temples  of  the  Americans  at  this  day,  they  keep  their 
idol  in  a  dark  part  of  the  hut,  which  is  consecrated  to  his 
worship.  For  this  purpose  too  the  druids  performed  all  their 
ceremonies  in  the  bosom  of  the  darkest  woods,  and  in  the 
shade  of  the  oldest  and  most  spreading  oaks.  No  person 
seems  better  to  have  understood  the  secret  of  heightening, 
or  of  setting  terrible  things,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  in 
their  strongest  light,  by  the  force  of  a  judicious  obscurity, 
than  Milton.  His  description  of  death  in  the  second  book 
is  admirably  studied  ;  it  is  astonishing  with  what  a  gloomy 
pomp,  with  what  a  significant  and  expressive  uncertainty  of 
strokes  and  colouring,  he  has  finished  the  portrait  of  the 
king  of  terrours  : 

The  other  shape^ 
If  shape  it  might  he  caWd  that  shape  had  none 
Distinguishable,  in  member,  joint,  or  limb  ; 
Or  substance  might  be  caWd  that  shadow  seemed  ,• 
For  each  seem'd  either  ;   black  he  stood  as  night  ; 
Fierce  as  ten  furies  ;  terrible  as  hell ; 
And  shook  a  deadly  dart.      What  seem'd  his  head 
The  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown  had  on. 

In  this  description  all  is  dark,  uncertain,  confused,  terrible, 
and  sublime  to  the  last  degree. 


108  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

SECT.  IV. 

OF    THE    DIFFERENCE    BETWEEN  CLEARNESS  AND  OBSCURITY 
WITH    REGARD    TO    THE    PASSIONS. 

IT  is  one  thing  to  make  an  idea  clear,  and  another  to  make 
it  affecting  to  the  imagination.  If  I  make  a  drawing  of  a 
palace,  or  a  temple,  or  a  landscape,  I  present  a  very  clear  idea 
of  those  objects  ;  but  then  (allowing  for  the  effect  of  imita- 
tion, which  is  something)  my  picture  can  at  most  affect  only 
as  the  palace,  temple,  or  landscape,  would  have  affected  in 
the  reality.  On  the  other  hand,  the  most  Hvely  and  spirited 
verbal  description  I  can  give,  raises  a  very  obscure  and  im- 
perfect idea  of  such  objects  ;  but  then  it  is  in  my  power  to 
raise  a  stronger  emotion  by  the  description  than  I  could  do  by 
the  best  painting.  This  experience  constantly  evinces.  The 
proper  manner  of  conveying  the  affections  of  the  mind  from 
one  to  another,  is  by  words  ;  there  is  a  great  insufficiency  in 
all  other  methods  of  communication  ;  and  so  far  is  a  clear- 
ness of  imagery  from  being  absolutely  necessary  to  an  influ- 
ence upon  the  passions,  that  they  may  be  considerably  ope- 
rated upon,  without  presenting  any  image  at  all,  by  certain 
sounds  adapted  to  that  purpose  -,  of  which  we  have  a  suffi- 
cient proof  in  the  acknowledged  and  powerful  effects  of  in- 
strumental musick.  In  reality,  a  great  clearness  helps  but 
little  towards  affecting  the  passions,  as  it  is  in  some  sort  an 
enemy  to  all  enthusiasms  whatsoever. 

SECT.  [IV.] 

THE    SAME    SUBJECT    CONTINUED. 

THERE  are  two  verses  in  Horace's  Art  of  Poetry  that 
seem  to  contradict  this  opinion,  for  which  reason  I  shall  take 
a  little  more  pains  in  clearing  it  up.     The  verses  are, 

Segnitts  irritant  anitnos  demissa  per  attreSy 
Qitam  qu£  sunt  ocitlis  siihjectajidelibus. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  109 

On  this  the  Abbe  du  Bos  founds  a  criticism,  wherein  he 
gives  painting  the  preference  to  poetry  in  the  article  of  mov- 
ing the  passions  ;  principally  on  account  of  the  greater  clear- 
ness of  the  ideas  it  represents.  I  believe  this  excellent  judge 
was  led  into  this  mistake  (if  it  be  a  mistake)  by  his  system, 
to  which  he  found  it  more  conformable  than  I  imagine  it 
will  be  found  by  experience.  I  know  several  who  admire 
and  love  painting,  and  yet  who  regard  the  objects  of  their 
admiration  in  that  art  with  coolness  enough  in  comparison 
of  that  warmth  with  which  they  are  animated  by  af- 
fecting pieces  of  poetry  or  rhetorick.  Among  the  common 
sort  of  people,  I  never  could  perceive  that  painting  had  much 
influence  on  their  passions.  It  is  true,  that  the  best  sorts  of 
painting,  as  well  as  the  best  sorts  of  poetry,  are  not  much 
understood  in  that  sphere.  But  it  is  inost  certain,  that  their 
passions  are  very  strongly  roused  by  a  fanatick  preacher,  or 
by  the  ballads  of  Chevy-chace,  or  the  Children  in  the  Wood, 
and  by  other  little  popular  poems  and  tales  that  are  current 
in  that  rank  of  life.  I  do  not  know  of  any  paintings,  bad  or 
good,  that  produce  the  same  effect.  So  that  poetry,  with  all 
its  obscurity,  has  a  more  general,  as  well  as  a  more  powerful 
dominion  over  the  passions  than  the  other  art.  And  I  think 
there  are  reasons  in  nature,  why  the  obscure  idea,  when  prop- 
erly conveyed,  should  be  more  affecting  than  the  clear.  It 
is  our  ignorance  of  things  that  causes  all  our  admiration,  and 
chiefly  excites  our  passions.  Knowledge  and  acquaintance 
make  the  most  striking  causes  affect  but  little.  It  is  thus 
with  the  vulgar  ;  and  all  men  are  as  the  vulgar  in  what  they 
do  not  understand.  The  Ideas  of  eternity,  and  infinity,  are 
among  the  most  affecting  we  have  :  and  perhaps  there  is 
nothing  of  which  we  really  understand  so  little,  as  of  infini- 
ty and  eternity.  We  do  not  any  where  meet  a  more  sub- 
lime description  than  this  justly-celebrated  one  of  Milton, 
wherein  he  gives  the  portrait  of  Satan  with  a  dignity  so  suit- 
able to  the  subject  : 

He  aboiie  the  rest 
In  shape  and  gesture  proudly  eminent 
Stood  like  a  toiuer  ;  his  form  had  yet  not  lost 
All  her  original  brightness^  nor  appeared 


no  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

Less  than  archangel  ruirCdy  and  W  excess 
Of  glory  obscurd  :  as  nvhen  the  sun  neiv  r'ts'n 
Looks  through  the  horizontal  misty  air 
Shorn  of  his  beams  ;  or  from  behind  the  moon 
In  dim  eclipse  disastrous  twilight  sheds 
On  half  the  nations  ;  and  with  fear  of  change 
Perplexes  monarchs. 

Here  is  a  very  noble  picture  ;  and  in  what  does  this  poeti- 
cal picture  consist  ?  in  images  of  a  tower,  an  archangel,  the 
sun  rising  through  mists,  or  in  an  eclipse,  the  ruin  of  mon- 
archs, and  the  revolutions  of  kingdoms.  The  mind  is  hur- 
ried out  of  itself,  by  a  crowd  of  great  and  confused  images  j 
which  affect  because  they  are  crowded  and  confused.  For 
separate  them,  and  you  lose  much  of  the  greatness  ;  and  join 
them,  and  you  infallibly  lose  the  clearness.  The  images  rais- 
ed by  poetry  are  always  of  this  obscure  kind  ;  though  in 
general  the  effects  of  poetry  are  by  no  means  to  be  attribut- 
ed to  the  images  it  raises  \  which  point  we  shall  examine 
more  at  large  hereafter.*  But  painting,  when  we  have  al- 
lowed for  the  pleasure  of  imitation,  can  only  affect  simply 
by  the  images  it  presents  •,  and  even  in  painting,  a  judicious 
obscurity  in  some  things  contributes  to  the  effect  of  the  pic- 
ture ;  because  the  images  in  painting  are  exactly  similar  to 
those  in  nature  ;  and  in  nature  dark,  confused,  uncertain  im- 
ages have  a  greater  power  on  the  fancy  to  form  the  grander 
passions,  than  those  have  which  are  more  clear  and  determin- 
ate. But  where  and  when  this  observation  may  be  applied 
to  practice,  and  how  far  it  shall  be  extended,  will  be  better 
deduced  from  the  nature  of  the  subject,  and  from  the  occa- 
sion, than  from  any  rules  that  can  be  given. 

I  am  sensible  that  this  idea  has  met  with  opposition,  and 
is  likely  still  to  be  rejected  by  several.  But  let  it  be  consid- 
ered, that  hardly  any  thing  can  strike  the  mind  with  its 
greatness,  which  does  not  make  some  sort  of  approach  to- 
wards infinity  \  which  nothing  can  do  whilst  we  are  able  to 
perceive  its  bounds  ;  but  to  see  an  object  distinctly,  and  to 
perceive  its  bounds,  is  one  and  the  same  thing.  A  clear 
idea  is  therefore  another  name  for  a  little  idea.     There  is  a 

*  Part  V. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  1 1  j 

passage  in  the  book  of  Job  amazingly  sublime,  and  this  sub- 
limity is  principally  due  to    the   terrible    uncertainty  of  the 
thing  described  :  In    thoughts  from    the   visions  of  the  night, 
when  deep  sleep  falleth  upon  men^  fear  came  upon  me   and  trem- 
blingy  ivhich  made  all  my  bones  to  shake.     Then    a  spirit  passed 
before  my  face.     The  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up.     It  stood  stilly 
but  I  could  not  discern  the  form  thereof  ;  an  image    was  be- 
fore mine  eyes  ;  there  was  silence  ;  and  I  heard  a  voice, — Shall 
mortal  man  be  more  just  than  God  P    We  are   first    prepared 
•with  the  utmost  solemnity  for  the  vision  ;  we  are  first  terri- 
fied, before  we  are  let    even  into   the  obscure  cause  of  our 
emotion  :  but  when  this    grand  cause  of  terrour   makes    its 
appearance,  what  is  it  ?  is  it  not  wrapt  up  in    the   shades  of 
its  own  incomprehensible  darkness,  more  aweful,  more  strik- 
ing, more  terrible,  than  the  liveliest    description,  than    the- 
clearest  painting,  could  possibly  represent  it  ?  When   paint- 
ers have  attempted  to  give  us   clear   representations  of  these 
very  fanciful  and  terrible  ideas,  they  have,  I  think,  almost 
always  failed  ;  insomuch  that  I  have  been    at   a  loss,  in  all 
the  pictures  I  have  seen   of  hell,  whether   the    painter   did 
not  intend  something  ludicrous.     Several  painters  have  han- 
dled a  subject  of  this  kind  with  a  view  of  assembling  as  ma- 
ny horrid  phantoms   as  their  imaginations   could  suggest  ;. 
but  all  the  designs  I  have   chanced   to  meet  of  the    tempta- 
tions of  St.  Anthony,  were  rather  a  sort  of  odd,    wild   gro- 
tesques, than  any  thing  capable  of  producing  a  serious  pass- 
ion.    In  all  these  subjects  poetry  is  very  happy.     Its  appari- 
tions, its    chimeras,  its   harpies,  its   allegorical   figures,  are 
grand  and  affecting  ;  and  though  Virgil  5  Fame,  and  Hom- 
er's   Discord,  are    obscure,    they    are  magnificent    figures.. 
These  figures  in  painting  would  be  clear  enough,  but  I  fear 
^ey  might  become  ridiculous. 

SECT.  V. 

POWER. 

BESIDES  those  things  which  directly  suggest  the  idea    of 
danger,,  and  those  which  produce  a  similar  effect  from  a  me- 


112  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

chanical  cause,  I  know  of  nothing  sublime,  which  Is  not 
some  modification  of  power.  And  this  branch  rises  as  nat- 
urally as  the  other  two  branches,  from  terrour,  the  common 
stock  of  every  thing  that  is  sublime.  The  idea  of  power, 
at  first  view,  seems  of  the  class  of  those  indifferent  ones, 
which  may  equally  belong  to  pain  or  to  pleasure.  But  in  re- 
ality, the  affection  arising  from  the  idea  of  vast  power,  is  ex- 
tremely remote  from  that  neutral  character.  For  first,  we 
must  remember,*  that  the  idea  of  pain,  in  its  highest  degree, 
is  much  stronger  than  the  highest  degree  of  pleasure  ;  and 
that  it  preserves  the  same  superiority  through  all  the  subor- 
dinate gradations.  From  hence  it  is,  that  where  the  chances 
for  equal  degrees  of  suffering  or  enjoyment  are  in  any  sort 
equal,  the  idea  of  the  suffering  must  always  be  prevalent. 
And  indeed  the  ideas  of  pain,  and  above  all  of  death,  are 
so  very  affecting,  that  whilst  we  remain  in  the  presence  of 
whatever  is  supposed  to  have  the  power  of  inflicting  either, 
it  is  impossible  to  be  perfectly  free  from  terrour.  Again, 
we  know  by  experience,  that  for  the  enjoyment  of  pleasure, 
no  great  efforts  of  power  are  at  all  necessary  ;  nay,  we 
know,  that  such  efforts  would  go  a  great  way  towards  de- 
stroying our  satisfaction  ;  for  pleasure  must  be  stolen,  and 
not  forced  upon  us  •,  pleasure  follows  the  will  j  and  there- 
fore we  are  generally  affected  with  it  by  many  things  of  a 
force  greatly  inferiour  to  our  own.  But  pain  is  always  in- 
flicted by  a  power  in  some  way  superiour,  because  we  never 
submit  to  pain  willingly.  So  that  strength,  violence,  pain, 
and  terrour,  are  ideas  that  rush  in  upon  the  mind  together. 
Look  at  a  man,  or  :niy  other  animal  of  prodigious  strength, 
and  what  is  your  idea  before  reflection  ?  Is  it  that  this 
strength  will  be  subservient  to  you,  to  your  ease,  to  your 
pleasure,  to  your  interest  in  any  sense  ?  No  ;  the  emotion 
you  feel  is,  lest  this  enormous  strength  fhould  be  employed 
to  the  purposes  of  f  rapine  and  destruction.  That  power 
derives  all  its  sublimitv  from  the  terrour  with  which  it  is 
generally  accompanied,  will  appear  evidently  from  its  eflect 
in  the  very  few  cases  in  which  it  may  be  possible  to  strip  a 
considerable  degree  of  strength  of  its  ability  to  hurt.    When 

*  Part  I.  sect.  7.        f  Vide  Part  III.  sect.  21. 


AiSID  BEAUTIFUL.  115 

vou  do  this,  you  spoil  it  of  every  thing  sublime,  and  it  im- 
mediately becomes  contemptible.  An  ox  is  a  creature  of  vast 
strength  •,  but  he  is  an  innocent  creature,  extremely  service- 
able, and  not  at  all  dangerous  ;  for  which  reason  the  idea 
of  an  ox  is  by  no  means  grand.  A  bull  is  strong  too  :  but 
his  strength  is  of  another  kind  ;  often  very  destructive,  sel- 
dom (at  least  amongst  us)  of  any  use  in  our  business  ;  the 
idea  of  a  bull  is  therefore  great,  and  it  has  frequently  a 
place  in  sublime  descriptions,  and  elevating  comparisons. 
Let  us  look  at  another  strong  animal  in  the  two  distinct  lights 
in  which  we  may  consider  him.  The  horse  in  the  light  of 
an  useful  beast,  fit  for  the  plough,  the  road,  the  draft  ;  in 
every  social  useful  light,  the  horse  has  nothing  sublime  :  but 
is  it  thus  that  we  are  affected  with  him,  luhofe  neck  is  cloathed 
ivith  thundery  the  glory  of  ivhose  nostrils  is  terribie^  ivho  siual- 
loiveth  the  ground  ivith  fierceness  and  rage^  neither  believeth  that 
it  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  ?  In  this  description  the  useful 
character  of  the  horse  entirely  disappears,  and  the  terrible 
and  sublime  blaze  out  together.  We  have  continually  about 
us  animals  of  a  strength  that  is  considerable,  but  not  perni- 
cious. Amongst  these  we  never  look  for  the  sublime  j  it 
comes  upon  us  in  the  gloomy  forest,  and  in  the  howling 
wilderness,  in  the  form  of  the  lion,  the  tyger,  the  panther, 
or  rhinoceros.  Whenever  strength  is  only  useful,  and  em- 
ployed for  our  benefit  or  our  pleasure,  then  it  is  never  sub- 
lime ;  for  nothing  can  act  agreeably  to  us,  that  does  not  act 
in  conformity  to  our  will  ;  but  to  act  agreeably  to  our  will, 
it  must  be  subject  to  us,  and  therefore  can  never  be  the 
cause  of  a  grand  and  commanding  conception.  The  descrip- 
tion of  the  wild  ass,  in  Job,  is  worked  up  into  no  small  sub- 
limity, merely  by  insisting  on  his  freedom,  and  his  setting 
mankind  at  defiance  ;  otherwise  the  description  of  such  an 
animal  could  have  had  nothing  noble  in  it.  Who  hath  loosed 
(says  he)  the  bands  of  the  nvild  ass  ?  ivhose  house  I  have  made  the 
ivildertiessy  and  the  barren  land  his  divellings.  He  scorneth  the 
multitude  of  the  city^  neither  regardeth  he  the  voice  of  the  driv- 
er. The  range  of  the  mountains  is  his  pasture.  The  magnifi- 
cent description  of  the  unicorn  and  of  leviathan  in  the  same 
book,  is  full  of  the  same  heightening  circumstances  :  Will 
Vol.  I.  R 


114?  ON  THE  SUBLIM£ 

the  unicorn  be  ivilling  to  serve  thee  ?  canst  thou  bind  the  unicorn 
•with  his  band  in  the  furroiv  ?  ivilt  thou  trust  him  because  his 
strength  is  great  ? — Canst  thou  draw  out  leviathan  ivith  an  hook  ? 
•will  he  make  a  covenant  with  thee  ?  wilt  thou  take  him  for  a 
servant  forever  ?  shall  not  one  be  cast  down  even  at  the  sight  of 
him  ?  In  short,  wheresoever  we  find  strength,  and  in  what 
light  soever  we  look  upon  power,  we  shall  all  along  observe 
the  sublime  the  concomitant  of  terrour,  and  contempt  the 
attendant  on  a  strength  that  is  subservient  and  innoxious. 
The  race  of  dogs  in  many  of  their  kindsj  have  generally  a 
competent  degree  of  strength  and  swiftness  ;  and  they  exert 
these  and  other  valuable  qualities  which  they  possess,  greatly 
to  our  convenience  and  pleasure.  Dogs  are  indeed  the  most 
social,  affectionate,  and  amiable  animals  of  the  whole  brute 
creation  ;  but  love  approaches  much  nearer  to  contempt  than 
is  commonly  imagined  ;  and  accordingly,  though  we  caress 
dogs,  we  borrow  from  them  an  appellation  of  the  most  des- 
picable kind,  when  we  employ  terms  of  reproach  ;  and  this 
appellation  is  the  common  mark  of  the  last  vileness  and  con- 
tempt in  every  language.  Wolves  have  not  more  strength 
than  several  species  of  dogs  •,  but,  on  account  of  their  un- 
manageable fierceness,  the  idea  of  a  wolf  is  not  despicable  j 
it  is  not  excluded  from  grand  descriptions  and  similitudes. 
Thus  we  are  affected  by  strength,  which  is  natural  power. 
The  power  which  arises  from  institution  in  kings  and  com- 
manders, has  the  same  connection  with  terrour.  Sovereigns 
are  frequently  addressed  with  the  title  of  dread  majesty.  And 
it  may  be  observed,  that  young  persons,  little  acquainted 
with  the  world,  and  who  have  not  been  used  to  approach 
men  in  power,  are  commonly  struck  with  an  awe  which  takes 
away  the  free  use  of  their  faculties.  When  I  prepared  my 
seat  in  the  street.,  (says  Job)  the  young  men  saw  mcy  and  hid 
themselves.  Indeed,  so  natural  is  this  timidity  with  regard 
to  power,  and  so  strongly  does  it  inhere  in  our  constitution, 
that  very  few  are  able  to  conquer  it,  but  by  mixing  much  in 
the  business  of  the  great  world,  or  by  using  no  small  violence 
to  their  natural  dispositions.  I  know  some  people  are  of 
opinion,  that  no  awe,  no  degree  of  terrour,  accompanies 
the  idea  of  power  :  and  have  hazarded  to   affirm,  that  we 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  115 

can  contemplate  the  idea  of  God  himself,  without  any  such 
emotion.  I  purposely  avoided,  when  I  first  considered  this 
subject,  to  introduce  the  idea  of  that  great  and  tremendous 
Being,  as  an  example  in  an  argument  so  light  as  this  ; 
though  it  frequently  occurred  to  me,  not  as  an  objection  to, 
but  as  a  strong  confirmation  of,  my  notions  in  this  matter. 
I  hope,  in  what  I  am  going  to  say,  I  shall  avoid  presump- 
tion, where  it  is  almost  impossible  for  any  mortal  to  speak 
with  strict  propriety.  I  say  then,  that  whilst  we  consider 
the  Godhead  merely  as  he  is  an  object  of  the  understanding, 
which  forms  a  complex  idea  of  power,  wjsdom,  justice, 
goodness,  all  stretched  to  a  degree  far  exceeding  the  bounds 
of  our  comprehension,  whilst  we  consider  the  Divinity  in 
this  refined  and  abstracted  light,  the  imagination  and  pass- 
ions are  little  or  nothing  affected.  But  because  we  are 
bound,  by  the  condition  of  our  nature,  to  ascend  to  these 
pure  and  intellectual  ideas,  through  the  medium  of  sensible 
images,  and  to  judge  of  these  divine  qualities  by  their  evi- 
dent acts  and  exertions,  it  becomes  extremely  hard  to  dis- 
entangle our  idea  of  the  cause  from  the  effect  by  which 
we  are  led  to  know  it.  Thus  when  we  contemplate  the 
Deity,  his  attributes  and  their  operation  coming  united  on 
the  mind,  form  a  sort  of  sensible  image,  and  as  such  are 
capable  of  affecting  the  imagination.  Now,  though  in  a 
just  idea  of  the  Deity,  perhaps  none  of  his  attributes  are 
predominant,  yet  to  our  imagination,  his  power  is  by  far  the 
most  striking.  Some  reflection,  some  comparing,  is  neces- 
sary to  satisfy  us  of  his  wisdom,  his  justice,  and  his  good- 
ness. To  be  struck  with  his  power,  it  is  only  necessary  that 
we  should  open  our  eyes.  But  whilst  we  contemplate  so 
vast  an  object,  under  the  arm,  as  it  were,  of  Almighty 
power,  and  invested  upon  every  side  with  omnipresence, 
we  shrink  into  the  minuteness  of  oiu'  own  nature,  and  are, 
in  a  manner,  annihilated  before  him.  And  though  a  con- 
sideration of  his  other  attributes  may  relieve  in  some  meas- 
ure our  apprehensions  ;  yet  no  conviction  of  the  justice 
with  which  it  is  exercised,  nor  the  mercy  with  which  it  is 
tempered,  can  wholly  remove  the  terrour  that  naturally  aris- 
es from  a  force  which  nothing  can  withstand.     If  we  rejoice. 


116  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

we  rejoice  with  trembling  :  and  even  whilst  we  are  receiving 
benefits,  we  cannot  but  shudder  at  a  power  which  can  con- 
fer benefits  of  such  mighty  importance.  When  the  prophet 
David  contemplated  the  wonders  of  wisdom  and  power 
which  are  displayed  in  the  economy  of  man,  he  seems  to  be 
struck  with  a  sort  of  divine  horrour,  and  cries  out.  Fearful- 
ly and  wynderfuH^i  am  I  made  !  An  heathen  poet  has  a  senti- 
ment of  a  similar  nature  ;  Horace  looks  upon  it  as  the  last 
effort  of  philosophical  fortitude,  to  behold  without  terrour  and 
amazement, this  immense  and  glorious  fabrick  of  the  universe : 

Hunc  soleniy  et  ste'laSy  et  decedeutia  certis 
^  Tempora  moment  is,  sunt  qui  formidine  nulla 

Lnbuti  spectant. 

Lucretius  is  a  poet  not  to  be  suspected  of  giving  way  to  su- 
perstitious terrours  ;  yet  when  he  supposes  the  whole 
mechanism  of  nature  laid  open  by  the  master  of  his  philoso- 
phy, his  transport  on  this  magnificent  view,  which  he  has 
represented  in  the  colours  of  such  bold  and  lively  poetry,  is 
overcast  with  a  shade  of  secret  dread  and  horrour  : 

His  tihi  me  rebus  quiedam  div'ina  voluptas 
Percipit,  atque  horror,  quod  sic  Natura  tua  vi 
Tarn  manifesta  patet  ex  omni  parte  retecta. 

But  the  scripture  alone  can  supply  ideas  answerable  to  the 
majesty  of  this  subject.  In  the  scripture,  wherever  God  is 
represented  as  appearing  or  speaking,  every  thing  terrible  in 
nature  is  called  up  to  heighten  the  awe  and  solemnity  of  the 
divine  presence.  The  psalms,  and  the  prophetical  books, 
are  crowded  with  instances  of  this  kind.  The  earth  shook 
(says  the  psalmist),  the  heavens  also  dropped  at  the  presence  of 
the  Lord.  And  what  is  remarkable,  the  painting  preserves 
the  same  character,  not  only  when  he  is  supposed  descend- 
ing to  take  vengeance  upon  the  wicked,  but  even  when  he 
exerts  the  like  plenitude  of  power  in  acts  of  beneficence  to 
mankind.  Tremble  thou  earth  !  at  the  presence  of  the  Lord  y 
at  the  presence  of  the  God  of  Jacob  ,-  which  turned  the  rock  into 
standing  water,  the  flint  into  a  fountain  of  waters  !  It  were 
endless  to  enumerate  all  the  passages,  both  in  the  sacred  and 


AND  BEAUTIFUL,  117 

profane  writers,  which  establish  the  general  sentiment  of 
mankind,  concerning  the  inseparable  union  of  a  sacred  and 
reverential  awe,  with  our  ideas  of  the  divinity.  Hence  the 
common  maxim.  Primus  in  orbe  deos  fecit  timor.  This  max- 
im may  be,  as  I  believe  it  is,  false  with  regard  to  the  origin 
of  religion.  The  maker  of  the  maxim  saw  how  inseparable 
these  ideas  were,  without  considering  that  the  notion  of 
some  great  power  must  be  always  precedent  to  our  dread  of 
it.  But  this  dread  inust  necessarily  follow  the  idea  of  such 
a  power,  when  it  is  once  excited  in  the  mind.  It  is  on  this 
principle  that  true  religion  has,  and  must  have,  so  large  a 
mixture  of  salutary  fear  ;  and  that  false  religions  have  gen- 
erally nothing  else  but  fear  t(3  support  them.  Before  the 
Christian  religion  had,  as  it  were,  humanized  the  idea  of  the 
Divinity,  and  brought  it  somewhat  nearer  to  us,  there  was 
very  little  said  of  the  love  of  God.  The  followers  of  Fiato 
have  something  of  it,  and  only  something  ;  the  other  writ- 
ers of  pagan  antiquity,  whether  poets  or  philosophers,  noth- 
ing at  all.  And  they  who  consider  with  what  infinite  atten- 
tion, by  what  a  disregard  of  every  perishable  object,  through 
what  long  habits  of  piety  and  contemplation  it  is,  any  man 
is  able  to  attain  an  entire  love  and  devotion  to  the  Deity, 
will  easily  perceive,  that  it  is  not  the  first,  the  most  natural, 
and  the  most  striking  effect  which  proceeds  from  that  idea. 
Thus  we  have  traced  power  through  its  several  gradations 
unto  the  highest  of  all,  where  our  imagination  is  finally  lost  ; 
and  we  find  terrour,  quite  throughout  the  progress,  its  in- 
separable companion,  and  grov/ing  along  with  it,  as  far  as 
we  can  possibly  trace  th^m.  Nov/  as  power  is  undoubtedly 
a  capital  source  of  the  sublime,  this  will  point  out  evidently 
from  whence  its  energy  is  derived,  and  to  wha^t  class  of  ideas 
we  ougJit  to  unite  it. 

SECT.  VI. 

PRIVATION. 

ALL  getieral  privations  are  great,  because  they  arc  all  ter- 
rible ;   Vacuitjy   Darhtessy   Solitttdcy  and   SiL'nce.     With  what 


118  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

a  fire  of  imagination,  yet  with  what  severity  of  judgment,  has 
Virgil  amassed  all  these  circumstances,  where  he  knows  that 
all  the  images  of  a  tremendous  dignity  ought  to  be  united,  at 
the  mouth  of  hell !  where,  before  he  unlocks  the  secrets  of 
the  great  deep,  he  seems  to  be  seized  with  a  religious  horrour, 
and  to  retire  astonished  at  the  boldness  of  his  own  design : 

Di  qiiibHS  iinpenum  est  anhnarumy  umhmque — silentes ! 
Et  Chaosy  et  Plegethon  !  loca  nocte  silentia  late  ? 
Sit  mih't  fas  audita  loqui  !  sit  ntimine  vestro 
Pandere  res  alta  terra  et  caligine  mersas  ! 
Ibant  obscuri,  sola  sub  nocte,  per  umbram, 
Perque  domos  Ditis  vacuas,  et  inania  regna. 

Ye  subterraneous  gods  !  nvhose  awful  sway 
The  gliding  ghosts^  and  silent  shades  obey  ; 
O  ChaoSy  hear  !  and  Phlegethon  profound  ! 
Whose  solemn  empire  stretches  nvide  around  ! 
Give  mej  ye  great  tremendous  powers,  to  tell 
Of  scenes  and  wonders  in  the  depth  of  hell : 
Give  me  your  mighty  secrets  to  display 
From  those  black  realms  of  darkness  to  the  day. 

Pitt. 

Obscure  they  went  through  dreary  shades  that  led 
Along  the  waste  dominions  of  the  dead. 

Dryden. 

SECT.  VII. 

VASTNESS. 

GREATNESS*  of  dimension  is  a  powerful  cause  of  the 
sublime.  This  is  too  evident,  and  the  observation  too  com- 
mon, to  need  any  illustration  ;  it  is  not  so  common  to  con- 
sider in  what  ways  greatness  of  dimension,  vastness  of 
extent  or  quantity,  has  the  most  striking  effect.  For  cer- 
tainly, there  are  ways,  and  modes,  wherein  the  same  quantity 
of  extension  shall  produce  greater  effects  than  it  is  found  to 

*  Part  IV,  sect.  9. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  II9 

do  in  Others.  Extension  is  either  in  length,  height,  or  depth. 
Of  these  the  length  strikes  least ;  an  hundred  yards  of  even 
ground  will  never  work  such  an  effect  as  a  tower  an  hun- 
dred yards  high,-  or  a  rock  or  mountain  of  that  altitude.  I 
am  apt  to  imagine  likewise,  that  height  is  less  grand  than 
depth  ;  and  that  we  are  more  struck  at  looking  down  from  a 
precipice,  than  looking  up  at  an  object  of  equal  height ;  but 
of  that  I  am  not  very  positive.  A  perpendicular  has  more 
force  in  forming  the  sublime  than  an  inclined  plane  ;  and  the 
effects  of  a  rugged  and  broken  surface  seem  stronger  than 
where  it  is  smooth  and  polished.  It  would  carry  us  out  of 
our  way  to  enter  in  this  place  into  the  cause  of  these  appear- 
ances ;  but  certain  it  is  they  affx)rd  a  large  and  fruitful  field 
of  speculation.  However,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  add  to  these 
remarks  upon  magnitude,  that  as  the  great  extreme  of  di- 
mension is  sublime,  so  the  last  extreme  of  littleness  is  in 
some  measure  sublime  likewise  ;  when  we  attend  to  the  infi- 
nite divisibility  of  matter,  when  we  pursue  animal  life  into 
these  excessively  small,  and  yet  organised  beings,  that  escape 
the  nicest  inquisition  of  the  sense,  when  we  push  our  dis-* 
coveries  yet  downward,  and  consider  those  creatures  so  many 
degrees  yet  smaller,  and  the  still  diminishing  scale  of  exist- 
ence, in  tracing  which  the  imagination  is  lost  as  well  as  the 
sense,  we  become  amazed  and  confounded  at  the  wonders  of 
minuteness  ;  nor  can  we  distinguish  in  its  effect  this  extreme 
of  littleness  from  the  vast  itself.  For  division  must  be  infi- 
nite as  well  as  addition  j  because  the  idea  of  a  pei-fect  unity 
can  no  more  be  arrived  at,  than  that  of  a  complete  whole,  to 
which  nothing  may  be  added. 

SECT.  VIII. 

INFINITY. 

ANOTHER  source  of  the  sublime  Is  injitjity  j  if  it  does 
not  rather  belong  to  the  last.  Infinity  has  a  tendency  to  fill 
the  mind  with  that  sort  of  delightful  horrour,  which  is  the 
most  genuine  effect,  and  truest  test  of  the  sublime.  There 
are  scarce  any  things  which  can  become  the  objects  of  our 


120  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

senses,  that  arc  really  and  in  their  own  nature  infinite.  But 
the  eye  not  being  able  to  perceive  the  bounds  of  many  things, 
they  seem  to  be  infinite,  and  they  produce  the  same  effects  as 
if  they  were  really  so.  We  are  deceived  in  the  like  manner, 
if  the  parts  of  some  large  object  are  so  continued  to  any  in- 
definite number,  that  the  imagination  meets  no  check  which 
may  hinder  its  extending  them  at  pleasure. 

Whenever  we  repeat  any  idea  frequently,  the  mind,  by  a 
sort  of  mechanism,  repeats  it  long  after  the  first  cause  has 
ceased  to  operate.*  After  whirling  about,  when  we  sit  down, 
the  objects  about  us  still  seem  to  whirl.  After  a  long  succes- 
sion of  noises,  as  the  fall  of  Avaters,  or  the  beating  of  forge 
hammers,  the  hammers  beat  and  the  water  roars  in  the  im- 
agination long  after  the  first  sounds  have  ceased  to  affect  it  ; 
and  they  die  away  at  last  by  gradations  Vv^hich  are  scarcely 
perceptible.  If  you  hold  up  a  straight  pole,  with  your  eye  to 
one  end,  it  will  seem  extended  to  a  length  almost  incredi- 
ble.f  Place  a  number  of  uniform  and  equidistant  marks  on 
this  pole,  they  will  cause  the  same  deception,  and  seem  mul- 
tiplied without  end.  The  senses,  strongly  affected  in  some 
one  manner,  cannot  quickly  change  their  tenour  or  adapt 
themselves  to  other  things  ;  but  they  continue  in  their  old 
channel  until  the  strength  of  the  first  mover  decays.  This 
is  the  reason  of  an  appearance  very  frequent  in  madmen  j 
that  they  remain  whole  days  and  nights,  sometimes  whole 
years,  in  the  constant  repetition  of  some  remark,  some  com- 
plaint, or  song  ;  which  having  struck  powerfully  on  their 
disordered  imagination  in  the  beginning  of  their  phrenzy, 
every  repetition  reinforces  it  with  new  strength  ;  and  the 
hurry  of  their  spirits,  unrestrained  by  the  curb  of  reason, 
continues  it  to  the  end  of  their  lives. 

SECT.  IX. 

SUCCESSION  AND   UNIFORMITY. 

SUCCESSION  and  uniformity  of  parts  are  what  constitute 
the  artificial  infinite.   1.  Succession;  which  is  requisite  that 

*  Part  IV.  sect.  12.  f  Part  IV.  sect.  14. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  121 

the  parts  may  be  continued  so  long  and  In  such  a  direction, 
as  by  their  frequent  impulses  on  the  sense  to  impress  the 
imagination  with  an  idea  of  their  progress  beyond  their 
actual  limits.  2.  Uniformity ;  because  if  the  figures  of  the 
parts  should  be  changed,  the  imagination  at  every  change 
finds  a  check  ;  you  are  presented  at  every  alteration  with 
the  termination  of  one  idea,  and  the  beginning  of  another  ; 
by  which  means  it  becomes  impossible  to  continue  that  unin- 
terrupted progression,  which  alone  can  stamp  on  bounded 
objects  the  character  of  infinity.*  It  is  in  this  kind  of  arti- 
ficial infinity,  I  believe,  we  ought  to  look  for  the  cause  why 
a  rotund  has  such  a  noble  effect.  For  in  a  rotund,  whether 
it  be  a  building  or  a  plantation,  you  can  no  where  fix  a  boun- 
dary ;  turn  which  way  you  will,  the  same  object  still  seems 
to  continue,  and  the  imagination  has  no  rest.  But  the  parts 
must  be  uniform,  as  well  as  circularly  disposed,  to  give  this 
figure  its  full  force ;  because  any  difference,  whether  it  be 
in  the  disposition  or  in  the  figure,  or  even  in  the  colour  of 
the  parts,  is  highly  prejudicial  to  the  idea  of  infinity,  which 
every  change  must  check  and  interrupt,  at  every  alteration 
commencing  a  new  series.  On  the  same  principles  of  suc- 
cession and  uniformity,  the  grand  appearance  of  the  antient 
heathen  temples,  which  v»'^ere  generally  oblong  forms,  with  a 
range  of  uniform  pillars  on  every  side,  will  be  easily  accounted 
for.  From  the  same  cause  also  may  be  derived  the  grand 
effect  of  the  aisles  in  many  of  our  own  cathedrals.  The 
form  of  a  cross  used  in  some  churches  seems  to  me  not  so 
eligible  as  the  parallelogram  of  the  antients ;  at  least,  I  im- 
agine it  is  not  so  proper  for  the  outside.  For  supposing  the 
arms  of  the  cross  every  way  equal,  if  you  stand  in  a  direction 
parallel  to  any''of  the  side  walls,  or  colonnades,  instead  of  a 
deception  that  makes  the  building  more  extended  than  it  is, 
you  are  cut  off  from  a  considerable  part  (two  thirds)  of  its 
ncttial  length  ;  and  to  prevent  all  possibility  of  progression, 
the  arms  of  the  cross  taking  a  new  direction,  make  a  right 
angle  with  the  beam,  and  thereby  wholly  turn  the  imagina- 

*  Mr.  Addison,  in  the  Spectators  concerning  the  pleasures  of  the  imagina- 
tion, thinks  it  is  because  in  the  rotund  at  one  glance  you  see  half  the  build- 
ing.   This  I  do  not  imagine  to  be  the  real  causa. 

Vol.  L  S 


122  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

tion  from  the  repetition  of  the  former  idea.  Or  suppose 
the  spectator  placed  where  he  may  take  a  direct  view  of 
such  a  building,  what  will  be  the  consequence  ?  the  necessary 
consequence  will  be,  that  a  good  part  of  the  basis  of  each 
angle  formed  by  the  intersection  of  the  arms  of  the  cross, 
must  be  inevitably  lost ;  the  whole  must  of  course  assume  a 
broken  unconnected  figure  ',  the  lights  must  be  unequal, 
here  strong,  and  there  weak ;  without  that  noble  gradation, 
which  the  perspective  always  effects  on  parts  disposed  unin- 
terruptedly in  a  right  line.  Some  or  all  of  these  objections 
will  lie  against  every  figure  of  a  cross,  in  whatever  view  you 
take  it.  I  exemplified  them  in  the  Greek  cross,  in  which 
these  faults  appear  the  most  strongly  ;  but  they  appear  in 
some  degree  in  all  sorts  of  crosses.  Indeed  there  is  nothing 
more  prejudicial  to  the  grandeur  of  buildings,  than  to 
abound  in  angles  ;  a  fault  obvious  in  many  ;  and  owing  to 
an  inordinate  thirst  for  variety,  which,  whenever  it  prevails, 
is  sure  to  leave  very  little  true  taste. 

SECT.  X. 

MAGNITUDE    IN    BUILDING. 

TO  the  sublime  in  building,  greatness  of  dimensions  seems 
requisite  ;  for  on  a  few  parts,  and  those  small,  the  imagina- 
tion cannot  rise  to  any  idea  of  infinity.  No  greatness  in  the 
manner  can  effectually  compensate  for  the  want  of  proper 
dimensions.  There  is  no  danger  of  drawing  men  into  ex- 
travagant designs  by  this  rule  ;  it  carries  its  own  caution 
along  with  it.  Because  too  great  a  length  in  buildings 
destroys  the  purpose  of  greatness,  which  it  was  intended  to 
promote ;  the  perspective  will  lessen  it  in  height  as  it  gains 
in  length ;  and  will  bring  it  at  last  to  a  point ;  turning  the 
whole  figure  into  a  sort  of  triangle,  the  poorest  in  its  effect 
of  almost  any  figure  that  can  be  presented  to  the  eye.  I 
have  ever  observed,  that  colonnades  and  avenues  of  trees  of 
a  moderate  length,  were  without  comparison  far  grander, 
than  when  they  were  suffered  to  run  to  immense  distances. 
A  true  artist  should  put  a  generous  deceit  on  the  specators. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  123 

and  efFect  the  noblest  designs  by  easy  methods.  Designs 
that  are  vast  only  by  their  dimensions,  are  always  the  sign  of 
a  common  and  low  imagination.  No  work  of  art  can  be 
great,  but  as  it  deceives ;  to  be  otherwise  is  the  prerogative 
of  nature  only.  A  good  eye  will  fix  the  medium  betwixt  an 
excessive  length  or  height  (for  the  same  objection  lies  against 
both),  and  a  short  or  broken  quantity  :  and  perhaps  it  might 
be  ascertained  to  a  tolerable  degree  of  exactness,  if  it  was  my 
purpose  to  descend  far  into  the  particulars  of  any  art. 

SECT.  XI. 

INFINITY    IN    PLEASING    OBJECTS. 

INFINITY,  though  of  another  kind,  causes  much  of  our 
pleasure  in  agreeable,  as  well  as  of  our  delight  in  sublime 
images.  The  spring  is  the  pleasantest  of  the  seasons  ;  and 
the  young  of  most  animals,  though  far  from  being  completely 
fashioned,  afford  a  more  agreeable  sensation  than  the  full 
grown  ;  because  the  imagination  is  entertained  with  the  prom- 
ise of  something  more,  and  does  not  acquiesce  in  the  pres- 
ent object  of  the  sense.  In  unfinished  sketches  of  drawing, 
I  have  often  seen  something  which  pleased  me  beyond  the 
best  finishing ;  and  this  I  believe  proceeds  from  the  cause  I 
have  just  now  assigned. 

SECT.  XII. 

DIFFICULTY. 

*  ANOTHER  source  of  greatness  is  difficulty.  When 
any  work  seems  to  have  required  immense  force  and  labour 
to  effect  it,  the  idea  is  grand.  Stonehenge,  neither  for  dis- 
position nor  ornament,  has  any  thing  admirable  ;  but  those 
huge  rude  masses  of  stone,  set  on  end,  and  piled  each  on 
other,  turn  the  mind  on  the  immense  force  necessary  for 
such  a  work.  Nay,  the  rudeness  of  the  work  increases  this 
cause  of  grandeur,  as  it  excludes  the  idea  of  art  and  contriv- 

*  Part  IV.  sect.  4,  5,  6. 


124  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

ance ;  for  dexterity  produces  another  sort  of  effect,  which  is 
different  enough  from  this. 

SECT.  XIII. 

MAGNIFICENCE. 

MAGNIFICENCE  is  likewise  a  source  of  the  subUme. 
A  great  profusion  of  things,  which  are  splendid  or  valuable 
in  themselves,  is  magnificent.  The  starry  heaven,  though  it 
occurs  so  very  frequently  to  our  view,  never  fails  to  excite  an 
idea  of  grandeur.  This  cannot  be  owing  to  the  stars  them- 
selves, separately  considered.  The  number  is  certainly  the 
cause.  The  apparent  disorder  augments  the  grandeur,  for 
the  appearance  of  care  is  highly  contrary  to  our  ideas  of  mag- 
nificence. Besides,  the  stars  lie  in  such  apparent  confusion, 
as  makes  it  impossible  on  ordinary  occasions  to  reckon  them. 
This  gives  them  the  advantage  of  a  sort  of  infinity.  In 
works  of  art,  this  kind  of  grandeur,  which  consists  in  multi- 
tude, is  to  be  very  cautiously  admitted  ;  because  a  profusion 
of  excellent  things  is  not  to  be  attained,  or  with  too  much 
difficulty  •,  and  because  in  many  cases  this  splendid  confusion 
would  destroy  all  use,  which  should  be  attended  to  in  most 
of  the  works  of  art  with  the  greatest  care  ;  besides  it  is  to 
be  considered,  that  unless  you  can  produce  an  appearance  of 
infinity  by  your  disorder,  you  will  have  disorder  only  with- 
out magnificence.  There  are,  however,  a  sort  of  fire-works, 
and  some  other  things,  that  in  this  way  succeed  well,  and  are 
truly  grand.  There  are  also  many  descriptions  in  the  poets 
and  orators,  which  owe  their  sublimity  to  a  richness  and  pro- 
fusion of  images,  in  which  the  mind  is  so  dazzled  as  to  make 
it  impossible  to  attend  to  that  exact  coherence  and  agree- 
ment of  the  allusions,  which  w^e  should  require  on  every  other 
occasion,  I  do  not  now  remember  a  more  striking  example 
of  this,  than  the  description  which  is  given  of  the  king's 
srrpy  in  the  play  of  Henry  the  Fourth  : 

All  furnish' d,  all  in  anns, 
^11  plum' d  like  ostriches  that  nvith  the  wind 


AND  BE.^UTIFUL.  225 

Baited  like  eagles  having  lately  bathed : 
As  full  of  spirit  as  the  moiith  of  May  ^ 
And  gorgeous  as  the  sun  in  midsummer y 
Wanton  as  youthful  goats y  wild  as  young  bulls. 
I  saiv  young  Harry  ivith  his  beaver  on 
Rise  from  the  ground  like  feather^  d  Mercury  ; 
And  vaulted  ivith  such  ease  into  his  seat 
As  if  an  angel  dropped  from  the  clouds 
To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus. 

In  that  excellent  book,  so  remarkable  foi'  the  vivacity  of 
its  description,  as  well  as  the  solidity  and  penetration  of  its 
sentences,  the  Wisdom  of  the  son  of  Sirach,  there  is  a  noble 
panegyrlck  on  the  high  priest  Simon  the  son  of  Onias  ;  and 
it  is  a  very  fine  example  of  the  point  before  us : 

Hoiv  was  he  honoured  in  the  midst  of  the  peoplcy  in  his  coming, 
out  of  the  sanctuary  !  He  was  as  the  morning  star  in  the  midst 
of  a  cloudy  and  as  the  moon  at  the  full ;  as  the  sun  shining  upon 
the  temple  of  the  Most  Highy  and  as  the  rainbow  giving  light  in 
the  bright  clouds  :  and  as  the  fiower  of  roses  in  the  spring  of  the 
yeary  as  lillies  by  the  rivers  of  watersy  and  as  the  frankincense  tree 
in  summer ,-  as  fire  and  incense  in  the  censer y  and  as  a  vessel  of 
gold  set  with  precious  stones  ;  as  a  fair  olive  tree  budding  forth 
fruity  and  as  a  cypress  nvhich  groiveth  up  to  the  clouds.  When 
he  put  on  the  robe  of  honour y  and  was  clothed  ivith  the  perfection 
of  glory,  when  he  went  up  to  the  holy  altary  he  made  the  garment 
of  holiness  honourable.  He  himself  stood  by  the  hearth  of  the  altar  y 
compassed  ivith  his  brethren  round  about ;  as  a  young  cedar  in 
LibanuSy  and  as  palm  trees  compassed  they  him  about.  So  uuere 
(til  the  sons  of  Aaron  in  their  glory,  and  the  oblations  of  the  Lord 
in  their  hands,  ^c. 

SECT.  XIV. 

LIGHT. 

HAVING  considered  extension,  so  far  as  it  is  capable  of 
raising  ideas  of  greatness  j  colour  comes  jiext  under  consider- 


126  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

ation.  All  colours  depend  on  light.  Light  therefore  ought 
previously  to  be  examined ;  and  with  it  its  opposite,  dark- 
ness. With  regard  to  light,  to  make  it  a  cause  capable  of 
producing  the  sublime,  it  must  be  attended  with  some  cir- 
cumstances, besides  its  bare  faculty  of  shewing  other  objects. 
Mere  light  is  too  common  a  thing  to  make  a  strong  impres- 
sion on  the  mind,  and  without  a  strong  impression  nothing 
can  be  sublime.  But  such  a  light  as  that  of  the  sun,  imme- 
diately exerted  on  the  eye,  as  it  overpowers  the  sense,  is  a 
very  great  idea.  Light  of  an  inferiour  strength  to  this,  if 
it  moves  with  great  celerity,  has  the  same  power ;  for  light- 
ning is  certainly  productive  of  grandeur,  which  it  owes  chief- 
ly to  the  extreme  velocity  of  its  motion.  A  quick  transition 
from  light  to  darkness,  or  from  darkness  to  light,  has  yet  a 
greater  effect.  But  darkness  is  more  productive  of  sublime 
ideas  than  light.  Our  great  poet  was  convinced  of  this ; 
and  indeed  so  full  was  he  of  this  idea,  so  entirely  possessed 
with  the  power  of  a  well  managed  darkness,  that  in  describ- 
ing the  appearance  of  the  Deity,  amidst  that  profusion  of 
magnificent  images,  which  the  grandeur  of  his  subject  pro- 
vokes him  to  pour  out  upon  every  side,  he  is  far  from  for- 
getting the  obscurity  which  surrounds  the  most  incompre- 
hensible of  all  beings,  but 

With  the  majesty  o/"  darkness  round 

Circles  his  throne. 

And  what  is  no  less  remarkable,  our  author  had  the  secret 
of  preserving  this  idea,  even  when  he  seemed  to  depart  the 
farthest  from  it,  when  he  describes  the  light  and  glory  which 
flows  from  the  divine  presence ;  a  light  which  by  its  very 
excess  is  converted  into  a  species  of  darkness. 

Dark  with  excessive  light  thy  shirts  appear. 

Here  is  an  idea  not  only  poetical  In  an  high  degree,  but 
strictly  and  philosophically  just.  Extreme  light,  by  over- 
coming the  organs  of  sight,  obliterates  all  objects,  so  as  in 
its  effect  exactly  to  resemble  darkness.     After  looking  for 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  127 

some  time  at  the  sun,  two  black  spots,  the  impression  which 
it  leaves,  seem  to  dance  before  our  eyes.  Thus  are  two 
ideas  as  opposite  as  can  be  imagined  reconciled  in  the  extremes 
of  both ;  and  both  in  spite  of  their  opposite  nature,  brought 
to  concur  in  producing  the  sublime.  And  this  is  not  the  only 
instance  wherein  the  opposite  extremes  operate  equally  in 
favour  of  the  sublime,  which  in  all  things  abhors  mediocrity. 

SECT.  XV. 

LIGHT    IN    BUILDING. 

AS  the  management  of  light  is  a  matter  of  importance  in 
architecture,  it  is  worth  inquiring,  how  far  this  remark  is 
applicable  to  building.  I  think  then,  that  all  edifices  calcu- 
lated to  produce  an  idea  of  the  sublime,  ought  rather  to  be 
dark  and  gloomy,  and  this  for  two  reasons  ;  the  first  is,  that 
darkness  itself  on  other  occasions  is  known  by  experience  to 
have  a  greater  effect  on  the  passions  than  light.  The  second 
is,  that  to  make  an  object  very  striking,  we  should  make  it 
as  different  as  possible  from  the  objects  with  which  we  have 
been  immediately  conversant ;  when  therefore  you  enter  a 
building,  you  cannot  pass  into  a  greater  light  than  you  had 
in  the  open  air  ;  to  go  into  one  some  few  degrees  less  lumi- 
nous, can  make  only  a  trifling  change ;  but  to  make  the 
transition  thoroughly  striking,  you  ought  to  pass  from  the 
greatest  light,  to  as  much  darkness  as  is  consistent  with 
the  uses  of  architecture.  At  night  the  contrary  rule  will 
hold,  but  for  the  very  same  reason ;  and  the  more  highly 
a  room  is  then  illuminated,  the  grander  will  the  passion  be. 

SECT.  XVI. 

COLOUR  CONSIDERED  AS  PRODUCTIVE  OF  THE  SUBLIME. 

AMONG  colours,  such  as  are  soft  or  cheerful  (except 
perhaps  a  strong  red  which  is  cheerful)  are  unfit  to  produce 
grand  images.  An  immense  mountain  covered  with  a  shin- 
ing green  turf,  is  nothing,  in  this  respect,  to  one  dark  and 


128  ON  Tim  SUIUJMh 

gloomy ;  the  cloudy  sky  is  more  grand  than  the  blue  ;  and 
night  more  sublime  and  solemn  than  day.  Therefore  in 
historical  painting,  a  gay  or  gaudy  drapery  can  never  have  a 
happy  effect :  and  in  buildings,  when  the  highest  degree  of 
the  sublime  is  intended,  the  materials  and  ornaments  ought 
neither  to  be  white,  nor  green,  nor  yellow,  nor  blue,  nor  of 
a  pale  red,  nor  violet,  nor  spotted,  but  of  sad  and  fuscous 
colours,  as  black,  or  brown,  or  deep  purple,  and  the  like. 
Much  of  gilding,  mosaicks,  painting,  or  statues,  contribute 
but  little  to  the  sublime.  This  rule  need  not  be  put  in  prac- 
tice, except  where  an  uniform  degree  of  the  most  striking 
sublimity  is  to  be  produced,  and  that  in  every  particular  ; 
for  it  ought  to  be  observed,  that  this  melancholy  kind  of 
greatness,  though  it  be  certainly  the  highest,  ought  not  to 
be  studied  in  all  sorts  of  edifices,  where  yet  grandeur  must 
be  studied  :  in  such  cases  the  sublimity  must  be  drawn  from 
the  other  soui'ces  ;  with  a  strict  caution  however  against  any 
thing  light  and  riant ;  as  nothing  so  effectually  deadens  the 
whole  taste  of  the  sublime. 

SECT.  XVII. 

SOUND    AND    LOUDNESS.* 

THE  eye  is  not  the  only  organ  of  sensation,  by  which  a 
sublime  passion  may  be  produced.  Sounds  have  a  great 
power  in  these  as  in  most  other  passions.  I  do  not  mean 
words,  because  words  do  not  affect  simply  by  their  sounds, 
but  by  means  altogether  different.  Excessive  loudness  alone 
is  sufficient  to  overpower  the  soul,  to  suspend  its  action,  and 
to  fill  it  with  terrour.  The  noise  of  vast  cataracts,  raging 
storms,  thunder,  or  artillery,  awakes  a  great  and  awful  sensa- 
tion in  the  mind,  though  we  can  observe  no  nicety  or  arti- 
fice in  those  sorts  of  musick.  The  shouting  of  multitudes 
has  a  similar  effect ;  and,  by  the  sole  strength  of  the  sound, 
so  amazes  and  confounds  the  imagination,  that,  in  this  stag- 
gering, and  hurry  of  the  mind,  the  best  established  tempers 
can  scarcely  forbear  being  borne  down,  and  joining  in  the 
common  cry,  and  common  resolution  of  the  crowd. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  129 

SECT.  XVIII. 

SUDDENNESS. 

A  SUDDEN  beginning,  or  sudden  cessation  of  sound  of 
any  considerable  force,  has  the  same  power.  The  attention 
is  roused  by  this ;  and  the  facuhies  driven  forward,  as  it 
were,  on  their  guard.  Whatever  either  in  sights  or  sounds 
makes  the  transition  from  one  extreme  to  the  other  easy, 
causes  no  terrour,  and  consequently  can  be  no  cause  of 
greatness.  In  every  thing  sudden  and  unexpected,  we  are 
apt  to  start ;  that  is,  we  have  a  perception  of  danger,  and 
our  nature  rouses  us  to  guard  against  it.  It  may  be  observ- 
ed that  a  single  sound  of  some  strength,  though  but  of  short 
duration,  if  repeated  after  intervals,  has  a  grand  effect.  Few 
things  are  more  awful  than  the  striking  of  a  great  clock, 
when  the  silence  of  the  night  prevents  the  attention  from 
being  too  much  dissipated.  The  same  may  be  said  of  a  sin- 
gle stroke  on  a  drum,  repeated  with  pauses ;  and  of  the  suc- 
cessive firing  of  cannon  at  a  distance.  All  the  effects  men- 
tioned in  this  section  have  causes  very  nearly  alike. 

SECT.  XIX. 

INTERMITTING. 

A  LOW,  tremulous,  intermitting  sound,  though  it  seems 
in  some  respects  opposite  to  that  just  mentioned,  is  produc- 
tive of  the  sublime.  It  is  worth  while  to  examine  this  a  lit- 
tle. The  fact  itself  must  be  determined  by  every  man's 
own  experience  and  reflection.  I  have  already  observed, 
that  *night  increases  our  terrour,  more  perhaps  than  any 
thing  else  -,  it  is  our  nature,  when  we  do  not  know  what 
may  happen  to  us,  to  fear  the  worst  that  can  happen ;  and 
hence  it  is,  that  uncertainty  is  so  terrible,  that  we  often  seek 
to  be  rid  of  it,  at  the  hazard  of  a  certain  mischief.  Now, 
some  low,  confused,  uncertain  sounds  leave  us  in  the  same 
fearful  anxiety  concerning  their  causes,  that  no  light,  or  an 
uncertain  light,  does  concerning  the  objects  that  surround  us. 

«  Section  (i. 

Vol.  I.  T 


130  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

Quale  per  incertam  lunam  sub  luce  maligna 
Est  iter  in  sylvis. 

— — A  faint  shadonv  of  uncertain  light. 
Like  as  a  lampj  nvhose  life  doth  fade  aivay  ; 
Or  as  the  moon  clothed  ivith  cloudy  night 
Doth  shew  to  him  who  walks  in  fear  and  great  affright. 

Spenser. 

But  liglit  now  appearing,  and  now  leaving  us,  and  so  off  and 
on,  is  even  more  terrible  than  total  darkness :  and  a  sort  of 
uncertain  sounds  are,  when  the  necessary  dispositions  concur, 
more  alarming  than  a  total  silence. 

SECT.  XX. 

THE   CRIES    OF    ANIMALS. 

SUCH  sounds  as  imitate  the  natural  inarticulate  voices  of 
men,  or  any  animals  in  pain  or  danger,  are  capable  of  con- 
veying great  ideas  ;  unless  it  be  the  well-known  voice  of 
some  creature,  on  which  we  are  used  to  look  with  contempt. 
The  angry  tones  of  wild  beasts  are  equally  capable  of  caus- 
ing a  great  and  awful  sensation. 

Hinc  exaudiri  gemituSy  iraque  leonuvi 
Vincla  recusantum,  et  sera  sub  nocte  rudentum  j 
Setigerique  sues,  atque  in  pmsepibus  ursi 
Savire;  et  forma  tnagnorum  ululare  Itiporum. 

It  might  seem  that  these  modulations  of  sound  carry  some 
connection  with  the  nature  of  the  things  they  represent, 
and  are  not  merely  arbitrary  ;  because  the  natural  cries  of 
all  animals,  even  of  those  animals  with  whom  we  have  not 
been  acquainted,  never  fail  to  make  themselves  sufficiently 
understood ;  this  cannot  be  said  of  language.  The  modifi- 
cations of  sound,  which  may  be  productive  of  the  sublime, 
are  almost  infinite.  Those  I  have  mentioned,  are  only  a  few 
instances  to  shew,  on  what  principles  they  are  all  built. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  131 

SECT.  XXI. 

SMELL  AND  TASTE.       BITTERS  AND  STENCHES. 

SMELLS  and  tastes y  have  some  share  too  in  ideas  of 
greatness ;  but  it  is  a  small  one,  weak  in  its  nature,  and  con- 
fined in  its  operations.  I  shall  only  observe,  that  no  smells 
or  tastes  can  produce  a  grand  sensation,  except  excessive  bit- 
ters, and  intolerable  stenches.  It  is  true,  that  these  affections 
of  the  smell  and  taste,  when  they  are  in  their  full  force,  and 
lean  directly  upon  the  sensory,  are  simply  payiful,  and  ac- 
companied with  no  sort  of  delight ;  but  when  they  are 
moderated,  as  in  a  description  or  narrative,  they  become 
sources  of  the  sublime,  as  genuine  as  any  other,  and  upon 
the  very  same  principle  of  a  moderated  pain.  "  A  cup  of 
bitterness  j"  "  to  drain  the  bitter  cup  of  fortune ;"  "  the  bit- 
ter apples  of  Sodom  ;"  these  are  all  ideas  suitable  to  a  sub- 
lime description.  Nor  is  this  passage  of  Virgil  without 
sublimity,  where  the  stench  of  the  vapour  in  Albunea  con- 
spires so  happily  with  the  sacred  horrour  and  gloominess  of 
that  prophetick  forest : 

At  rex  soUcitus  monstris  oracula  Fauni 
Fatidici  genitoris  adity  lucosque  sub  alta 
ConsuUt  Albunea  J  nemorum  qua  maxima  sacro 
Fonte  sonat ;  ssevamque  exhalat  opaca  Mephitim. 

In  the  sixth  book,  and  in  a  very  sublime  description,  the  poi- 
sonous exhalation  of  Acheron  is  not  forgot,  nor  does  it  at  all 
disagree  with  the  other  images  amongst  which  it  is  introduced : 

Spelunca  zlt^fuitj  vastoque  immanis  hiatu 
Scrupea,  tufa  lacu  nigro,  nemorumque  tenebris, 
Quam  super  hand  ulla  poterant  imputie  volaiites 
Tendcre  iter  pennisy  talis  sese  halitus  atris 
Faucibus  effundens  supera  ad  convexa  ferebat. 

I  have  added  these  examples,  because  some  friends,  for  whose 
judgment  I  have  great  deference,  were  of  opinion,  that  if 
the  sentiment  stood  nakedly  by  itself,  it  would  be  subject,  at 
first  view,  to  burlesque  and  ridicule  j    but  this   I  imagine 


132  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

would  principally  arise  from  considering  the  bitterness  and 
stench  in  company  with  mean  and  contemptible  ideas,  with 
which  it  must  be  owned  they  are  often  united  j  such  an 
union  degrades  the  sublime  In  all  other  instances  as  well  as 
in  those.  But  it  is  one  of  the  tests  by  which  the  sublimity 
of  an  Image  is  to  be  tried,  not  whether  it  becomes  mean 
when  associated  with  mean  ideas  •,  but  whether,  when  united 
with  Images  of  an  allowed  grandeur,  the  whole  composition 
is  supported  with  dignity.  Things  which  are  terrible  are 
always  great ;  but  when  things  possess  disagreeable  qualities, 
or  such  as  have  Indeed  some  degree  of  danger,  but  of  a  dan- 
ger easily  overcome,  they  are  merely  odious,  as  toads  and  spiders. 

SECT.  XXII. 

FEELING.      PAIN. 

OF  feelings  little  more  can  be  said  than  that  the  Idea  of 
bodily  pain,  in  all  the  modes  and  degrees  of  labour,  pain, 
anguish,  torment,  is  productive  of  the  sublime ;  and  nothing 
else  In  this  sense  can  produce  it.  I  need  not  give  here  any 
fresh  Instances,  as  those  given  In  the  former  sections  abun- 
dantly illustrate  a  remark,  that  in  reality  wants  only  an 
attention  to  nature,  to  be  made  by  every  body. 

Having  thus  run  through  the  causes  of  the  sublime  with 
reference  to  all  the  senses,  my  first  observation  (sect.  7.) 
will  be  found  very  nearly  true ;  that  the  sublime  is  an  Idea 
belonging  to  self-preservation  \  that  it  is  therefore  one  of 
the  most  affecting  we  have  ;  that  its  strongest  emotion  is  an 
emotion  of  distress ;  and  that  no  *pleasure  from  a  positive 
cause  belongs  to  it.  Numberless  examples,  besides  those 
mentioned,  might  be  brought  in  support  of  these  truths,  and 
many  perhaps  useful  consequences  drawn  from  them — 

Sedfugit  interea,fugit  irrevocabile  tetnpus. 
Singula  dum  capti  circumvectamur  amcre. 

*  Vide  Part  I.  sect.  6. 

THE   END   OF    THE    SECOND   PART. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY 


INTO    THE 


ORIGIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS 


OF    THE 


SUBLIME  AND  BEAUTIFUL. 


PART       III. 
SECTION  I. 

OF    BEAUTY. 


I 


LT  is  my  design  to  consider  beauty  as  distin- 
guished from  the  sublime ;  and,  in  the  course  of  the  in- 
quiry, to  examine  how  far  it  is  consistent  with  it.  But  pre- 
vious to  this,  we  muft  take  a  short  review  of  the  opinions 
already  entertained  of  this  quaUty  -,  which  I  think  are  hard- 
ly to  be  reduced  to  any  fixed  principles  ;  because  men  are 
used  to  talk  of  beauty  in  a  figurative  manner,  that  is  to  say, 
in  a  manner  extremely  uncertain,  and  indeterminate.  By 
beauty  I  mean  that  quality,  or  those  qualities  in  bodies,  by 
which  they  cause  love,  or  some  passion  similar  to  it.  I  con- 
fine this  definition  to  the  merely  sensible  qualities  of  things, 
for  the  sake  of  preserving  the  utmost  simplicity  in  a  subject 
which  must  always  distract  us,  whenever  we  take  in  those  va- 
rious causes  of  sympathy  which  attach  us  to  any  persons  or 
things  from  secondary  considerations,  and  not  from  the  di- 
rect force  which  they  have  merely  on  being  viewed.  I  like- 
wise distinguish   love,  by   which  I  mean   that  satisfaction 


134-  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

which  arises  to  the  mind  upon  contemplating  any  thing  beau- 
tiful, of  whatsoever  nature  it  may  be,  from  desire  or  lust  ; 
which  is  an  energy  of  the  mind,  that  hurries  us  on  to  the 
possession  of  certain  objects,  that  do  not  affect  us  as  they 
are  beautiful,  but  by  means  altogether  different.  We  shall 
have  a  strong  desire  for  a  woman  of  no  remarkable  beauty  ; 
whilst  the  greatest  beauty  in  men,  or  in  other  animals, 
though  it  causes  love,  yet  excites  nothing  at  all  of  desire. 
Which  shews  that  beauty,  and  the  passion  caused  by  beauty, 
which  I  call  love,  is  different  from  desire,  though  desire 
may  sometimes  operate  along  v/ith  it  ;  but  it  is  to  this  latter 
that  we  must  attribute  those  violent  and  tempestuous  pas- 
sions, and  the  consequent  emotions  of  the  body  which  at- 
tend what  is  called  love  in  some  of  its  ordinary  acceptations,* 
and  not  to  the  effects  of  beauty  merely  as  it  is  such. 

SECT.  II. 

PROPORTION  NOT  THE  CAUSE  OF  BEAUTY  IN  VEGETABLES. 

BEAUTY  hath  usually  been  said  to  consist  in  certain 
proportions  of  parts.  On  considering  the  matter,  I  have 
great  reason  to  doubt,  whether  beauty  be  at  all  an  idea  be- 
longing to  proportion.  Proportion  relates  almost  wholly  to 
convenience,  as  every  idea  of  order  seems  to  do ;  and  it  must 
therefore  be  considered  as  a  creature  of  the  understanding, 
rather  than  a  primary  cause  acting  on  the  senses  and  imagin- 
ation. It  is  not  by  the  force  of  long  attention  and  inquiry 
that  we  find  any  object  to  be  beautiful ;  beauty  demands  no 
assistance  from  our  reasoning  ;  even  the  will  is  unconcern- 
ed ;  the  appearance  of  beauty  as  effectually  causes  some  de- 
gree of  love  in  us,  as  the  application  of  ice  or  fire  produces 
the  ideas  of  heat  or  cold.  To  gain  something  like  a  satis- 
factory conclusion  in  this  point,  it  were  well  to  examine, 
what  proportion  is ;  since  several  who  make  use  of  that 
word,  do  not  always  seem  to  understand  very  clearly  the 
force  of  the  term,  nor  to  have  very  distinct  ideas  concerning 
the  thing  itself.  Proportion  is  the  measure  of  relative  quan- 
tity.    Since  all  quantity  is  divisible,  it  is  evident  that  every 


AND  BEAUTIPUL.  I33 

distinct  part  into  wliich  any  quantity  is  divided,  must  bear 
some  relation  to  the  other  parts,  or  to  the  whole.  These 
relations  give  an  origin  to  the  idea  of  proportion.  They 
are  discovered  by  mensuration,  and  they  are  the  objects  of 
mathematical  inquiry.  But  vsrhether  any  part  of  any  deter- 
minate quantity  be  a  fourth,  or  a  fifth,  or  a  sixth,  or  a  moie- 
ty of  the  whole  ;  or  whether  it  be  of  equal  length  with  any 
other  part,  or  double  its  length,  or  but  one  half,  is  a  matter 
merely  indifferent  to  the  mind  5  it  stands  neuter  in  the  ques- 
tion :  and  it  is  from  this  absolute  indifference  and  tranquil- 
lity of  the  mind,  that  mathematical  speculations  derive  some 
of  their  most  considerable  advantages  ;  because  there  is  noth- 
ing to  interest  the  imagination ;  because  the  judgment  sits 
free  and  unbiassed  to  examine  the  point.  All  proportions, 
every  arrangement  of  quantity  is  alike  to  the  understanding,. 
because  the  same  truths  result  to  it  from  all ;  from  greater, 
from  lesser,  from  equality  and  inequality.  But  surely  beau- 
ty is  no  idea  belonging  to  mensuration  ;  nor  has  it  any  thing 
to  do  with  calculation  and  geometry.  If  it  had,  we  might 
then  point  out  some  certain  measures  which  v/e  could  dem- 
onstrate to  be  beautiful,  either  as  simply  considered,  or  as 
related  to  others  ;  and  v/e  could  call  in  those  natural  objects, 
for  whose  beauty  we  have  no  voucher  but  the  sense,  to  this 
happy  standard,  and  confirm  the  voice  of  our  passions  by 
the  determination  of  our  reason.  But  since  vv^e  have  not 
this  help,  let  us  see  whether  proportion  can  in  any  sense  be 
considered  as  the  cause  of  beauty,  as  hath  been  so  generally, 
and  by  some  so  confidently  affirmed.  If  proportion  be  one 
of  the  constituents  of  beauty,  it  must  derive  that  power  either 
from  some  natural  properties  inherent  in  certain  measures, 
v/hich  operate  mechanically ;  fi'om  the  operation  of  custom  ;. 
or  from  the  fitness  which  some  measures  have  to  answer 
some  particular  ends  of  conveniency.  Our  business  there- 
fore is  to  inquire,  whether  the  parts  of  those  objects,  which 
are  found  beautiful  in. the  vegetable  or  animal  kingdoms,  are 
constantly  so  formed  according  to  such  certain  measures,  as 
may  serve  to  satisfy  us  that  their  beauty  results  from  those 
measures  on  the  principle  of  a  natural  mechanical  cause  ;  or 
from  custom  ;  or,,  in  fine,  from  their  fitness  for   any  defer- 


136  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

minate  purposes.  I  intend  to  examine  this  point  under  each 
of  these  heads  in  their  order.  But  before  I  proceed  further, 
I  hope  it  will  not  be  thought  amiss,  if  I  lay  down  the  rules 
which  governed  me  in  this  inquiry,  and  which  have  misled 
me  in  it,  if  I  have  gone  astray.  1.  If  two  bodies  produce 
the  same  or  a  similar  effect  on  the  mind,  and  on  examination 
they  are  found  to  agree  in  some  of  their  properties,  and  to 
differ  in  others  j  the  common  effect  is  to  be  attributed  to 
the  properties  in  which  they  agree,  and  not  to  those  in  which 
they  differ.  2.  Not  to  account  for  the  effect  of  a  natural 
object  from  the  effect  of  an  artificial  object.  3.  Not  to 
account  for  the  effect  of  any  natural  object  from  a  con- 
clusion of  our  reason  concerning  its  uses,  if  a  natural 
cause  may  be  assigned.  4.  Not  to  admit  any  determin- 
ate quantity,  or  any  relation  of  quantity,  as  the  cause 
of  a  certain  effect,  if  the  effect  is  produced  by  different  or 
opposite  measures  and  relations ;  or  if  these  measures  and 
relations  may  exist,  and  yet  the  effect  may  not  be  produced. 
These  are  the  rules  which  I  have  chiefly  followed,  whilst  I 
examined  into  the  power  of  proportion  considered  as  a  nat- 
ural cause;  and  these,  if  he  thinks  them  just,  I  request  the 
reader  to  carry  with  him  throughout  the  following  discussion ; 
whilst  we  inquire  in  the  first  place,  in  what  things  we  find 
this  quality  of  beauty ;  next^  to  see  whether  in  these  we  can 
find  any  assignable  proportions,  in  such  a  manner  as  ought 
to  convince  us  that  our  idea  of  beauty  results  from  them. 
We  shall  consider  this  pleasing  pov/er,  as  it  appears  in  vege- 
tables, in  the  inferiour  animals,  and  in  man.  Turning  our 
eyes  to  the  vegetable  creation,  we  find  nothing  there  so 
beautiful  as  flowers  ;  but  flowers  are  almost  of  every  sort  of 
shape,  and  of  every  sort  of  disposition ;  they  are  turned  and 
fashioned  into  an  infinite  variety  of  forms  j  and  from  these 
forms  botanists  have  given  them  their  names,  which  are  al- 
most as  various.  What  proportion  do  we  discover  between 
the  stalks  and  the  leaves  of  flowers,  or  between  the  leaves 
and  the  pistils  ?  How  does  the  slender  stalk  of  the  rose 
agree  with  the  bulky  head  under  which  it  bends  ?  but  the 
rose  is  a  beautiful  flower  ;  and  can  we  undertake  to  say  that 
it  does  not  owe  a  great  deal  of  its  beauty  even  to  that  dis- 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  137 

proportion ;  the  rose  is  a  large  flower,  yet  it  grows  upon  a 
small  shrub  ;  the  flower  of  the  apple  is  ^!'ery  small,  and  grows 
upon  a  large  tree ;  yet  the  rose  and  the  apple  blossom  are 
both  beautiful,  and  the  plants  that  bear  them  are  most  en- 
gagingly attired,  notwithstanding  this  disproportion.  What 
by  general  consent  is  allowed  to  be  a  more  beautiful  object 
than  an  orange  tree,  flourishing  at  once  with  its  leaves,  its 
blossoms,  and  its  fruit .''  but  it  is  in  vain  that  we  search  here 
for  any  proportion  between  the  height,  the  breadth,  or  any 
thing  else  concerning  the  dimensions  of  the  whole,  or  con- 
cerning the  relation  of  the  particular  parts  to  each  other.  I 
grant  that  we  may  observe  in  many  flowers,  something  of  a 
regular  figure,  and  of  a  methodical  disposition  of  the  leaves. 
The  rose  has  such  a  figure  and  such  a  disposition  of  its  pet- 
als •,  but  in  an  oblique  view,  when  this  figure  is  in  a  good 
measure  lost,  and  the  order  of  the  leaves  confounded,  it  yet 
retains  its  beauty  j  the  rose  is  even  more  beautiful  before  it 
is  full  blown ;  and  the  bud,  before  this  exact  figure  is  form- 
ed ;  and  this  is  not  the  only  instance  wherein  method  and 
exactness,  the  soul  of  proportion,  are  found  rather  prejudi- 
cial than  serviceable  to  the  cause  of  beauty. 

SECT.  III. 

PROPORTION  NOT  THE  CAUSE  OF  BEAUTY  IN  ANIMALS. 

THAT  proportion  has  but  a  small  share  in  the  formation 
of  beauty,  is  full  as  evident  among  animals.  Here  the  great- 
est variety  of  shapes  and  dispositions  of  parts,  are  well  fitted 
to  excite  this  idea.  The  swan,  confessedly  a  beautiful  bird, 
has  a  neck  longer  than  the  rest  of  his  body,  and  but  a  very 
short  tail :  is  this  a  beautiful  proportion  ?  we  must  allow  that 
it  is.  But  then  what  shall  we  say  to  the  peacock,  who  has 
comparatively  but  a  short  neck,  with  a  tail  longer  than  the 
neck  and  the  rest  of  the  body  taken  together  ?  How  many 
birds  are  there  that  vary  infinitely  from  each  of  these  stand- 
ards, and  from  every  other  which  you  can  fix  ;  with  propor- 
tions different,  and  often  directly  opposite  to  each  other  ! 
and  yet  many  of  these  birds  are  extremely  beautiful ;  when 

Vol.  I.  U 


13S  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

upon  considering  them  we  find  nothing  in  any  one  part  that 
might  determine  us,  h  priorij  to  say  what  the  others  ought 
to  be,  nor  indeed  to  guess  any  thing  about  them,  but  what 
experience  might  shew  to  be  full  of  disappointment  and  mis- 
•  take.  And  with  regard  to  the  colours  either  of  birds  or 
flowers,  for  there  is  something  similar  in  the  colouring  of 
both,  whether  they  are  considered  in  their  extension  or  gra- 
dation, there  is  nothing  of  proportion  to  be  observed.  Some 
are  of  but  one  single  colour  •,  others  have  all  the  colours  of 
the  rainbow ;  some  are  of  the  primary  colours,  others  are  of 
the  mixt ;  in  short,  an  attentive  observer  may  soon  conclude, 
that  there  is  as  little  of  proportion  in  the  colouring  as  in  the 
shapes  of  these  objects.  Turn  next  to  beasts ;  examine  the 
head  of  a  beautiful  horse  •,  find  what  proportion  that  bears 
to  his  body,  and  to  his  limbs,  and  what  relations  these  have 
to  each  other ;  and  when  you  have  settled  these  proportions 
as  a  standard  of  beauty,  then  take  a  dog  or  cat,  or  any 
other  animal,  and  examine  how  far  the  same  proportions  be- 
tween their  heads  and  their  necks,  between  those  and  the 
body,  and  so  on,  are  found  to  hold  ;  I  think  we  may  safely 
say,  that  they  differ  in  every  species,  yet  that  there  are  indi- 
viduals found  in  a  great  many  species  so  differing,  that  have 
a  very  striking  beauty.  Now,  if  it  be  allowed  that  very  dif- 
ferent, and  even  contrary,  forms  and  dispositions  are  consist- 
ent with  beauty,  it  amounts  I  believe  to  a  concession,  that  no 
certain  measures,  operating  from  a  natural  principle,  are  nec- 
essary to  produce  it,  at  least  so  far  as  the  brute  species  is 
concerned. 

SECT.  IV. 

PROPORTION    NOT    THE    CAUSE    OF    BEAUTY    IN   THE    HUMAN 

SPECIES. 

THERE  are  some  parts  of  the  human  body,  that  are  ob- 
served to  hold  certain  proportions  to  each  other ;  but  before 
it  can  be  proved,  that  the  efficient  cause  of  beauty  lies  in 
these,  it  must  be  shewn,  that  wherever  these  are  found  ex- 
act, the  person  to  whom  they  belong  is  beautiful :  I  mean  in 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I39 

the  effect  produced  on  the  view,  either  of  any  member  dis- 
tinctly considered,  or  of  the  whole  body  together.     It  must 
be  hkewise  shewn,  that  these  parts  stand  in  such  a  relation 
to  each  other,  that  the  comparison  between  them  may  be 
easily  made,  and  that  the  affection  of  the  mind  may  natur- 
ally result  from  it.     For  my  part,  I  have  at  several  times  ve- 
ry carefully  examined  many  of  those  proportions,  and  found 
them  hold  very  nearly,  or  altogether  alike  in  many  subjects, 
which  were  not  only  very   different  from  one  another,  but 
where  one  has  been  very  beautiful,  and  the  other  very  re- 
mote from  beauty.     With  regard  to  the   parts  which  are 
found  so  proportioned,  they  are  often  so  remote  from   each 
other,  in  situation,  nature,  and  office,  that  I  cannot  see  how 
they  admit  of  any  comparison,  nor  consequently  how  any  ef- 
fect owing  to  proportion  can  result  from  them.     The  neck, 
say  they  in  beautiful  bodies,  should  measure  with  the  calf  of 
the  leg  ;  it  should  likewise  be  twice  the  circumference  of  the 
wrist.     And  an  infinity  of  observations  of  this  kind  are  to 
be  found  in  the  writings  and  conversations   of  many.     But 
what  relation  has  the  calf  of  the  leg  to  the  neck  ;  or   either 
of  these  parts  to  the  wrist  ?    These  proportions  are  certain- 
ly to  be  found  in  handsome  bodies.     They  are  as  certainly 
in  ugly  ones  ;  as  any  who  v/ill  take  the  pains  to  try  may  find. 
Nay,  I  do  not  know  but  they  may  be  least  perfect  in  some 
of  the  most  beautiful.     You  may  assign  any  proportions  you 
please  to  every  part  of  the  human   body  j  and  I  undertake 
that  a  painter  shall  religiously  observe  them  all,  and  notwith^ 
standing  produce,   if  he  pleases,  a  very  ugly  figure.     The 
same  painter  shall  considerably  deviate   fi-oia  these  propor- 
tions, and  produce  a  very  beautiful  one.     And  indeed  it  may 
be  observed  in  the  master-pieces  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
statuary,  that  several  of  them  differ  very  widely  from  the 
proportions  of  others,  in  parts  very  conspicuous  and  of  great 
consideration ;  and  that  they  differ  no  less  frpm  the  propor- 
tions we  find  in  living  men,  of  forms  extremely  striking  and 
agreeable.      And  after  all,  how  are  the  partisans  of  pi'opor- 
tional  beauty  agreed  amongst  themselves  about  the  propor- 
tions of  the  human  body  ?  some  hold  it  to  be  seven  heads ; 
some  make  it  eight ;  whiht  odier-i  extend   it  even  to   ten  -^ 


140  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

a  vast  difference  in  such  a  small  number  of  divisions  !  Others 
take  other  methods  of  estimating  tlie  proportions,  and  all 
with  equal  success.     But  are  these  proportions  exactly  the 
same  in  all  handsome  men  ?  or   are  they  at  all  the   propor- 
tions found  in  beautiful  women  ?  nobody  will  say  that  they 
are;  yet  both  sexes  are  undoubtedly  capable  of  beauty,  and 
the  female  of  the  greatest  •,  which  advantage  I  believe  will 
hardly  be  attributed  to  the  superiour  exactness  of  proportion 
in  the  fair  sex.     Let  us  rest  a  moment  on  this  point ;  and 
consider  how  much  difference  there  is  between  the  measures 
that  prevail  in  many  similar  parts  of  the  body,  in  the  two 
sexes  of  this   single  species  only.     If  you  assign  any  deter- 
minate proportions  to  the  limbs  of  a  man,  and  if  you  limit 
human  beauty  to  these  proportions,  when  you   find  a  woman 
who  differs  in  the  make  and  measures  of  almost  every  part, 
you  must  conclude  her  not  to  be  beautiful,   in  spite  of  the 
suggestions  of  your  imagination ;  or,  in  obedience  to  your 
imagination,   you  must  renounce  your  rules ;  you  must  lay 
by  the  scale  and  compass,  and  look  out  for  some  other  cause 
of  beauty.     For  if  beauty  be  attached   to  certain  measures 
which  operate  from  a  principle  in  nature^  why  should  similar 
parts  with  different  measures  of  proportion  be  found  to  have 
beauty,  and  this  too  in  the  very  same  species  ?  but  to  open 
our  view  a  little,  it  is  worth  observing,  that  almost  all  ani- 
mals have  parts  of  very  much  the  same  nature,  and  destined 
nearly  to  the  same  purposes  ?  an  head,  neck,  body,  feet,  eyes, 
ears,  nose,  and  mouth ;  yet  Providence,  to  provide  in  the 
best  manner  for  their  several  wants,  and  to  display  the  rich- 
es of  his  wisdom  and  goodness  in  his  creation,  has  worked 
out  of  these  few  and  similar  organs,  and  members,  a  diversi- 
ty hardly  short  of  infinite  in  their  disposition,  measures,  and 
relation.     But,  as  we  have  before  observed,  amidst  this  infi- 
nite diversity,   one  particular  is   common  to  many  species  ; 
several  of  the   individuals  which  compose  them  are  capable 
of  affecting  us  with  a  sense  of  loveliness ;  and  whilst  they 
;igree   in  producing  this  effect,  they  differ   extremely  in  the 
relative  measures   of  those   parts  which  have  produced   it. 
These  considerations  were  sufficient  to  induce  me  to  reject 
the  notion  of  any  particular  proportions  that  operated  by  na- 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  14,1 

ture  to  produce  a  pleasing  effect ;  but  those  who  will  agree 
with  me  with  regard  to  a  particular  proportion,  are  strongly- 
prepossessed  in  favour  of  one  more  indefinite.  They  imagine, 
that  although  beauty  in  general   is  annexed  to  no  certain 
measures  common  to  the  several  kinds  of  pleasing  plants  and 
animals  j  yet  that  there   is  a  certain  proportion  in  each  spe- 
cies absolutely  essential  to  the  beauty  of  that  particular  kind. 
If  we  consider  the  animal  world  in  general,  we  find  beauty 
confined  to  no  certain  measures ;  but  as  some  peculiar  meas- 
ure   and  relation  of  parts  is  what  distinguishes  each  peculiar 
class  of  animals,  it  must  of  necessity  be,  that  the  beautiful  in 
each  kind  will  be  found  in  the  measures  and  proportions  of 
that  kind  ;  for   otherwise   it  would  deviate  from  its   proper 
species,  and  become  in  some  sort  monstrous  :  however,   no 
species  is  so  strictly  confined  to  any  certain  proportions,  that 
there  is  not  a  considerable  variation  amongst  the  individuals  ; 
and  as  it  has  been  shewn  of  the  human,  so  it  may  be  shewn 
of  the  brute  kinds,  that   beauty  is  found,  indifferently  in  all 
the  proportions  which  each  kind  can  admit,  without  quitting 
its  common  form  ;  and  it  is  this  idea  of  a  common  form  that 
makes  the  proportion  of  parts  at  all  regarded,   and   not  the 
operation  of  any  natural  cause  :  indeed  a  little  consideration 
will  make  it  appear,  that  it  is  not  measure  but  manner  that 
creates  all  the  beauty  which  belongs  to  shape.     What   light 
do  we  borrow  from  these  boasted   proportions,  when   we 
study  ornamental  design  ?  It  seems  amazing  to  me,  that  ar- 
tists, if  they  were  as  well  convinced  as  they  pretend  to  be, 
that  proportion  is  a  principal  cause  of  beauty,   have  not  by 
them  at  all  times  accurate  measurements  of  all  sorts  of  beau- 
tiful animals  to  help  them  to  proper  proportions,  when  they 
would  contrive  any  thing  elegant,  especially  as  they  frequent- 
ly assert,  that  it  is  from  an  observation  of  the   beautiful   in 
nature  tliey  direct  their  practice.     I   know  that  it  has  been 
said  long  since,  and  echoed  backward  and  forward  from  one 
writer  to  another  a  thousand  times,  that  the   proportions  of 
building  have  been  taken   from  those  of  the  human  body. 
To  make  this  forced  analogy  complete,  they  represent  a  man 
with  his  arms  raised  and  extended  at   fall  length,  and  then 
describe   a  sort   of  square,  as  it  is  formed  by  passing  lines 


14,2  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

along  the  extremities  of  this  strange  figure.  But  it  appears 
very  clearly  to  me,  that  the  human  figure  never  supplied  the 
architect  with  any  of  his  ideas.  For  in  the  first  place,  men 
are  very  rarely  seen  in  this  strained  posture  ;  it  is  not  natur- 
al to  them  j  neither  is  it  at  all  becoming.  Secondly,  the  view 
of  the  human  figure  so  disposed,  does  not  naturally  suggest 
the  idea  of  a  square,  but  rather  of  a  cross  ;  as  that  large  space 
between  the  arms  and  the  ground,  must  be  filled  with  some- 
thing before  it  can  make  any  body  think"of  a  square.  Third- 
ly, several  buildings  are  by  no  means  of  the  form  of  that 
particular  square,  which  are  notwithstanding  planned  by  the 
best  architects,  and  produce  an  efi'ect  altogether  as  good,  and 
perhaps  a  better.  And  certainly  nothing  could  be  more  un- 
accountably whimsical,  than  for  an  architect  to  model  his 
perfoi-mance  by  the  human  figure,  since  no  two  things  can 
have  less  resemblance  or  analogy,  than  a  man,  and  an  house 
or  temple  :  do  we  need  to  observe,  that  then-  purposes  are 
entirely  different  ?  What  I  am  apt  to  suspect  is  this  :  that 
these  analogies  were  devised  to  give  a  credit  to  the  works  of 
art,  by  shewing  a  conformity  between  them  and  the  noblest 
works  in  nature  ;  not  that  the  latter  served  at  all  to  supply 

I 

hints  for  the  perfection  of  the  former.  And  I  am  the  more 
fully  convinced,  tliat  the  patrons  of  proportion  have  trans- 
ferred their  artificial  ideas  to  nature,  and  not  borrowed  from 
thence  the  proportions  they  use  in  works  of  art ;  because  in 
any  discussion  of  this  subject  they  always  quit  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible the  open  field  of  natural  beauties,  the  animal  and  veg- 
etable kingdoms,  and  fortify  themselves  within  the  artificial 
lines  and  angles  of  architecture.  For  there  is  in  mankind 
an  unfortunate  propensity  to  make  themselves,  their  views, 
and  their  works,  the  measure  of  excellence  in  every  thing 
whatsoever.  Therefore  having  observed  that  their  dwellings 
were  most  commodious  and  firm  when  they  were  thrown  in- 
to regular  figures,  with  parts  answerable  to  each  other ; 
they  transferred  these  ideas  to  their  gardens ;  they  turned 
their  trees  into  pillars,  pyramids,  and  obelisks  -,  they  formed 
their  hedges  into  so  many  green  walls,  and  fashioned  their 
walks  into  squares,  triangles,  and  other  mathematical  figures, 
with  exactness  and  symmetry ;  and  they  thought,  if  they 


AND  BEAUTIFUL. 


14S 


were  not  imitating,  they  were  at  least  improving  nature,  and 
teaching  her  to  know  her  business.  But  nature  has  at  last 
escaped  from  their  discipline  and  their  fetters ;  and  our  gar- 
dens, if  nothing  else,  declare,  we  begin  to  feel  that  mathe- 
matical ideas  are  not  the  true  measures  of  beauty.  And 
surely  they  are  full  as  little  so  in  the  animal,  as  the  vegeta- 
ble world.  For  is  it  not  extraordinary,  that  in  these  fine  de- 
scriptive pieces,  these  innumerable  odes  and  elegies  which 
are  in  the  mouths  of  all  the  world,  and  many  of  which  have 
been  the  entertainment  of  ages,  that  in  these  pieces  which 
describe  love  with  such  a  passionate  energy,  and  represent 
its  object  in  such  an  infinite  variety  of  lights,  not  one  word 
is  said  of  proportion,  if  it  be,  what  some  insist  it  is,  the 
principal  component  of  beauty  ;  whilst  at  the  same  time, 
several  other  qualities  are  very  frequently  and  warmly  men- 
tioned ?  But  if  proportion  has  not  this  power,  it  may  appear 
odd  how  men  cameoriginally  tobe  so  prepossessed  in  its  favour. 
It  arose,  I  imagine,  from  the  fondness  I  have  just  mentioned, 
which  men  bear  so  remarkably  to  their  own  works  and  no- 
tions ;  it  arose  from  false  reasonings  on  the  effects  of  the 
customary  figure  of  animals  5  it  arose  from  the  Platonick 
theory  of  fitness  and  aptitude.  For  which  reason,  in  the 
next  section,  I  shall  consider  the  effects  of  custom  in  the 
figure  of  animals  j  and  afterwards  the  Idea  of  fitness :  since 
if  proportion  does  not  operate  by  a  natural  power  attending 
some  measures,  it  must  be  either  by  custom,  or  the  idea  of 
utility ;  there  Is  no  other  way. 

SECT.  V. 

FROPORTION    FURTHER    CONSIDERED. 

IF  I  am  not  mistaken,  a  great  deal  of  the  prejudice  in  fa- 
vour of  proportion  has  arisen,  not  so  much  from  the  obser- 
vation of  any  certain  measures  found  in  beautiful  bodies,  as 
from  a  wrong  idea  of  the  relation  which  deformity  bears  to 
beauty,  to  which  it  has  been  considered  as  the  opposite ;  on 
this  principle  it  was  concluded,  that  where  the  causes  of  de- 
formity were  removed,  beauty  must  naturally  and  necessarily 


144<  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

b€  introduced.  This  I  believe  is  a  mistake.  For  deformity 
is  opposed  not  to  beauty,  but  to  the  complete^  common  form. 
If  one  of  the  legs  of  a  man  be  found  shorter  than  the  other, 
the  man  is  deformed  ;  because  there  is  something  wanting 
to  complete  the  whole  idea  we  form  of  a  man  ;  and  this  has 
the  same  effect  in  natural  faults,  as  maiming  and  mutilation 
produce  from  accidents.  So  if  the  back  be  humped,  the 
man  is  defoi'med  j  because  his  back  has  an  unusual  figure, 
and  what  carries  with  it  the  idea  of  some  disease  or  misfor- 
tune ;  so  if  a  man's  neck  be  considerably  longer  or  shorter 
than  usual,  we  say  he  is  deformed  in  that  part,  because  men 
are  not  commonly  made  in  that  manner.  But  surely  e\"ery 
hour's  experience  may  convince  us,  that  a  man  may  have  his 
legs  of  an  equal  length,  and  resembling  each  other  in  all  re- 
spects, and  his  neck  of  a  just  size,  and  his  back  quite  straight, 
without  having  at  the  same  time  the  least  perceivable  beauty. 
Indeed  beauty  is  so  far  from  belonging  to  the  idea  of  custom, 
that  in  reality  what  affects  us  in  that  manner  is  extremely 
rare  and  uncommon.  The  beautiful  strikes  us  as  much  by 
its  novelty  as  the  deformed  itself.  It  is  thus  in  those  species 
of  animals  with  which  we  are  acquainted ;  and  if  one  of  a 
new  species  were  represented,  we  should  by  no  means  wait 
until  custom  had  settled  an  idea  of  proportion,  before  we  de- 
cided concerning  its  beauty  or  ugliness  :  which  shews  that 
the  general  idea  of  beauty  can  be  no  more  owing  to  custom- 
ary than  to  natural  proportion.  Deformity  arises  from  the 
want  of  the  common  proportions ;  but  the  necessary  result 
of  their  existence  in  any  object  is  not  beauty.  If  we  sup- 
pose proportion  in  natural  things  to  be  relative  to  custom  and 
use,  the  nature  of  use  and  custom  will  shew,  that  beauty, 
which  is  a  positive  and  powerful  quality,  cannot  result  from 
it.  We  are  so  wonderfully  formed,  that,  whilst  we  are  crea- 
tures vehemently  desirous  of  novelty,  we  are  as  strongly  at- 
tached to  habit  and  custom.  But  it  is  the  nature  of  things 
which  hold  us  by  custom,  to  affect  us  very  little  whilst  we 
are  in  possession  of  them,  but  strongly  when  they  are  absent. 
I  remember  to  have  frequented  a  certain  place,  every  day 
for  a  long  time  together ;  and  I  may  truly  say,  that  so  far 
from  finding  pleasure  in  it,  I  was  affected  with  a  sort  of 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  14,5 

weariness  and  'disgust ;  I  came,  I  went,  I  returned,  without 
pleasure ;  yet  if  by  any  means  I  passed  by  the  usual  time  of 
my  going  thither,  I  was  remarkably  uneasy,  and  was  not  quiet 
till  I  had  got  into  my  old  track.  They  who  use  snuff,  take 
it  almost  without  being  sensible  that  they  take  it,  and  the 
acute  sense  of  smell  is  deadened,  so  as  to  feel  hardly  any 
thing  from  so  sharp  a  stimulus  ;  yet  deprive  the  snuff-taker 
of  his  box,  and  he  is  the  most  uneasy  mortal  in  the  world. 
Indeed  so  far  are  use  and  habit  from  being  causes  of  pleas- 
ure, merely  as  such,  that  the  effect  of  constant  use  is  to 
make  all  things  of  whatever  kind  entirely  unaffecting.  For 
as  use  at  last  takes  off  the  painful  effect  of  many  things,  it 
reduces  the  pleasurable  effect  in  others  in  the  same  manner, 
and  brings  both  to  a  sort  of  mediocrity  and  indifference. 
Very  justly  is  use  called  a  second  nature  j  and  our  natural 
and  common  state  is  one  of  absolute  indifference,  equally 
prepared  for  pain  or  pleasure.  But  when  we  are  thrown  out 
of  this  state,  or  deprived  of  any  thing  requisite  to  maintain 
us  in  it ;  when  this  chance  does  not  happen  by  pleasure  from 
some  mechanical  cause,  we  are  always  hurt.  It  is  so  with 
the  second  nature,  custom,  in  all  things  which  relate  to  it. 
Thus  the  want  of  the  usual  proportions  in  men  and  other 
animals  is  sure  to  disgust,  though  their  presence  is  by  no 
means  any  cause  of  real  pleasure.  It  is  true,  that  the  pro- 
portions laid  down  as  causes  of  beauty  in  the  human  body, 
are  frequently  found  in  beautiful  ones,  because  they  are  gen- 
erally found  in  all  mankind  ;  but  if  it  can  be  shewn  too,  that 
they  are  found  without  beauty,  and  that  beauty,  frequently 
exists  without  them,  and  that  this  beauty,  where  it  exists, 
always  can  be  assigned  to  other  less  equivocal  causes,  it  will 
naturally  lead  us  to  conclude,  that  proportion  and  beauty  are 
not  ideas  of  the  same  nature.  The  true  opposite  to  beauty 
is  not  disproportion  or  deformity,  but  ugliness ;  and  as  it 
proceeds  from  causes  opposite  to  those  of  positive  beauty, 
we  rannot  consider  it  until  we  come  to  treat  of  that.  Be- 
tween beauty  and  ugliness  there  is  a  sort  of  mediocrity,  in 
which  the  assigned  proportions  are  most  commonly  found  j 
but  this  has  no  effect  upon  the  passions. 
Vol.  I.  AV 


146  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

SECT.  VI. 

FITNESS    NOT    THE    CAUSE   OF    BEAUTY. 

IT  is  said  that  the  idea  of  utility,  or  of  a  part's  being  well 
adapted  to  answer  its  end,  is  the  cause  of  beauty,  or  indeed 
beauty  itself.  If  it  were  not  for  this  opinion,  it  had  been 
impossible  for  the  doctrine  of  proportion  to  have  held  its 
ground  very  long ;  the  world  would  be  soon  weary  of  hear- 
ing of  measures  which  related  to  nothing,  either  of  a  natural 
principle,  or  of  a  fitness  to  answer  some  end  ;  the  idea  which 
mankind  most  commonly  conceive  of  proportion,  is  the  suit- 
ableness of  means  to  certain  ends,  and,  where  this  is  not  the 
question,  very  seldom  trouble  themselves  about  the  effect  of 
different  measures  of  things.  Therefore  it  was  necessary 
for  this  theory  to  insist  that  not  only  artificial,  but  natural 
objects  took  their  beauty  from  the  fitness  of  the  parts  for 
their  several  purposes.  But  in  framing  this  theory,  I  am 
apprehensive  that  experience  was  not  sufficiently  consulted. 
For,  on  that  principle,  the  wedge-like  snout  of  a  swine,  with 
its  tough  cartilage  at  the  end,  the  little  sunk  eyes,  and  the 
whole  make  of  the  head,  so  well  adapted  to  its  offices  of 
digging  and  rooting,  would  be  extremely  beautiful.  The 
great  bag  hanging  to  the  bill  of  a  pelican,  a  thing  highly 
useful  to  this  animal,  would  be  likewise  as  beautiful  in  our 
eyes.  ^The  hedgehog,  so  well  secured  against  all  assaults  by 
his  prickly  hide,  and  the  porcupine  with  his  missile  quills, 
would  be  then  considered  as  creatures  of  no  small  elegance. 
There  are  few  animals  whose  parts  are  better  contrived  than 
those  of  a  monkey  •,  he  has  the  hands  of  a  man,  joined  to 
the  springy  limbs  of  a  beast ;  he  is  admirably  calculated  for 
running,  leaping,  grappling,  and  climbing  -,  and  yet  there 
are  few  animals  which  seem  to  have  less  beauty  in  the  eyes 
of  all  mankind.  I  need  say  little  to  the  trunk  of  the  ele- 
phant, of  such  various  usefulness,  and  which  is  so  far  from 
contributing  to  his  beauty.  How  well  fitted  is  the  wolf  for 
running  and  leaping !  how  admirably  is  the  lion  armed  for 
battle !  but  will  any  one  therefore  call  the  elephant,  the 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  147- 

wolf,  and  the  Jlon,  beautiful  animals  ?  I  believe  nobody  will 
think  the  form  of  a  man's  leg  so  well  adapted  to  running, 
as  those  of  an  horse,  a  dog,  a  deer,  and  several  other  crea- 
tures i  at  least  they  have  not  that  appearance :  yet,  I  believe, 
a  well-fashioned  human  leg  will  be  allowed  far  to  exceed  all 
these  in  beauty.  If  the  fitness  of  parts  was  what  constituted 
the  loveliness  of  their  form,  the  actual  employment  of  them 
would  undoubtedly  much  augment  it ;  but  this,  though  it  is 
sometimes  so  upon  another  principle,  is  far  from  being  al- 
ways the  case.  A  bird  on  the  wing  is  not  so  beautiful  as 
when  it  is  perched ;  nay,  there  are  several  of  the  domestick 
fowls  which  are  seldom  seen  to  fly,  and  which  are  nothing 
the  less  beautiful  on  that  account ;  yet  birds  are  so  extreme- 
ly different  in  their  form  from  the  beast  and  human  kinds, 
that  you  cannot,  on  the  principle  of  fitness,  allow  them  any- 
thing agreeable,  but  in  consideration  of  their  parts  being  de- 
signed for  quite  other  purposes.  I  never  in  my  life  chanced 
to  see  a  peacock  fly  •,  and  yet  before,  very  long  before  I  con- 
sidered any  aptitude  in  his  form  for  the  aerial  life,  I  was 
struck  with  the  extreme  beauty  which  raise's  that  bird  above 
many  of  the  best  flying  fowls  in  the  world  ;  though,  for  any 
thing  I  saw,  his  way  of  living  was  much  like  that  of  the" 
swine,  which  fed  in  the  farm-yard  along  Avith  him.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  cocks,  hens,  and  the  like  ;  they  are 
of  the  flying  kind  in  figure  ;  in  their  manner  of  moving  not 
very  different  from  men  and  beasts.  To  leave  these  foreign 
examples ;  if  beauty  in  our  own  species  was  annexed  to  use, 
men  would  be  much  more  lovely  than  women ;  and  strength 
and  agility  would  be  considered  as  the  only  beauties.  But 
to  call  strength  by  the  name  of  beauty,  to  have  but  one  de- 
nomination for  the  qualities  of  a  Venus  and  Hercules,  so 
totally  different  in  almost  all  respects,  is  surely  a  strange  con- 
fusion of  ideas,  or  abuse  of  words.  The  cause  of  this  con- 
fusion, I  imagine,  proceeds  from  our  frequently  perceiving 
the  parts  of  the  human  and  other  animal  bodies  to  be  at 
once  very  beautiful,  and  very  well  adapted  to  their  purposes ; 
and  we  are  deceived  by  a  sophism,  which  makes  us  take  that 
for  a  cause  which  is  only  a  concomitant  :  this  is  the  sophism 
of  the  fly  j  who  imagined  he  raised  a  great  dust,  because  he 


14,8  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

Stood  Upon  the  chariot  that  really  raised  It.  The  stomach, 
the  lungs,  the  liver,  as  well  as  other  parts,  are  incomparably 
well  adapted  to  their  purposes  •,  yet  they  are  far  from  hav- 
ing any  beauty.  Again,  many  things  are  very  beautiful,  in 
which  it  is  impossible  to  discern  any  idea  of  use.  And  I  ap- 
peal to  the  first  and  most  natural  feelings  of  mankind,  wheth- 
er, on  beholding  a  beautiful  eye,  or  a  well-fashioned  mouth, 
or  a  well-turned  leg,  any  ideas  of  their  being  well  fitted  for 
seeing,  eating,  or  running,  ever  present  themselves.  What 
idea  of  use  is  it  that  flowers  excite,  the  most  beautiful  part 
of  the  vegetable  world  ?  It  is  true,  that  the  infinitely  wise 
and  good  Creator  has,  of  his  bounty,  frequently  joined  beau- 
ty to  those  things  which  he  has  made  useful  to  us :  but  this 
does  not  prove  that  an  idea  of  use  and  beauty  are  the  same 
thing,  or  that  they  are  any  way  dependent  on  each  other. 

SECT.  VIL 

THE    REAL    EFFECTS    OF    FITNESS. 

WHEN  I  excluded  proportion  and  fitness  from  any  share 
in  beauty,  I  did  not  by  any  means  intend  to  say  that  they 
were  of  no  value,  or  that  they  ought  to  be  disregarded  in 
works  of  art.  Works  of  art  are  the  proper  sphere  of  their 
power  -,  and  here  it  is  that  they  have  their  full  effect.  When- 
ever the  wisdom  of  our  Creator  intended  that  we  should  be 
affected  with  any  thing,  he  did  not  confine  the  execution  of 
his  design  to  the  languid  and  precarious  operation  of  our 
reason  •,  but  he  endued  it  with  powers  and  properties  that 
prevent  the  understanding,  and  even  the  will,  which  seizing 
upon  the  senses  and  imagination,  captivate  the  soul  before 
the  understanding  is  ready  either  to  join  with  them,  or  to 
oppose  them.  It  is  by  a  long  deduction  and  much  study, 
that  we  discover  the  adorable  wisdom  of  God  in  his  works  : 
when  we  discover  it,  the  effect  is  very  different,  not  only  in 
the  manner  of  acquiring  it,  but  in  its  own  nature,  from  that 
which  strikes  us  without  any  preparation  from  the  sublime 
or  the  beautiful.  How  different  is  the  satisfaction  of  an 
anatomist,  who  discovers  the  use  of  the  muscles  and  of  the 


AND  BEAUTIFUL,  I4.9 

skin,  the  excellent  contrivance  of  the  one   for  the   various 
movements  of  the  body,  and  the  wonderful  texture   of  the 
other,  at  once  a  general  covering,  and  at  once  a  general  out- 
let as  well  as  inlet  ;  how  difl'erent  is  this  from  the   affection 
which  possesses  an  ordinary  man  at  the   sight   of  a   delicate 
smooth  skin,  and  all  the   other    parts   of  beauty,  which  re- 
quire no  investigation  to  be  perceived  !  In  the  former   case, 
whilst  we  look  up  to  the  Maker  with  admiration  and  praise, 
the  object  which  causes  it   may  be   odious   and   distasteful  j 
the  latter  very  often  so  touches  us  by  its  power   on   the  im- 
agination, that  we  examine  but  little  into  the  artifice   of  its 
contrivance  j  and  we  have  need   of  a    strong   effort   of  our 
reason  to  disentangle  our  minds  from  the  allurements  of  the 
object,  to  a  consideration  of  that  wisdom  which  invented  so 
powerful  a  machine.     The   effect  of  proportion  and  fitness, 
at  least  so  far  as  they  proceed  from  a  mere  consideration  of 
the  work  itself,  produce  approbation,  the  acquiescene  of  the 
understanding,  but  not  love,  nor  any  passion  of  that  species. 
When  we  examine  the  structure  of  a  watch,  when  we  come 
to  know  thoroughly  the  use  of  every  part  of  it,  satisfied  as 
we  are  with  the  fitness  of  the  whole,  we  are  far  enough  from 
perceiving  any  thing  like  beauty  in  the  watch-work  itself; 
but  let  us  look  on  the  case,  the  labour  of  some  curious  artist 
in  engraving,  Avith  little  or  no  idea  of  use,  we  shall  have  a 
much  livelier  idea  of  beauty  than  we  ever  could  have  had 
from  the  watch  itself,  though  the  master-piece  of  Graham. 
In  beauty,  as  I  said,  the  effect  is  previous  to  any  knowledge 
of  the  use  ;  but  to  judge  of  proportion,  we  must  know  the 
end  for  which  any  work  is  designed.     According  to  the  end, 
the  proportion  varies.     Thus  there  is  one  propoition  of  a 
tower,  another  of  an  house  j  one  proportion  of  a  gallery,  an- 
other of  an  hall,  another  of  a  chamber.     To  judge  of  the 
proportions  of  these,  you  must  be  first   acquainted  with  the 
purposes   for  which  they  were  designed.     Good  sense  and 
experience  acting  together,  find  out  what  is  fit  to  be  done  in 
every  woi"k  of  art.     We  are  rational  creatures,  and  in  aif  our 
works  we  ought  to  regard  their  end  and  purpose  ;  the  grati- 
fication of  any  passion,  how  innocent  soever,  ought  only  to 
be  of  secondary  consideration.     Herein  is  ph'ccd   the   real 


150  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

power  of  fitness  and  proportion ;  they  operate  on  the  un- 
derstanding considering  them,  which  approves  the  work  and 
acquiesces  in  it.  The  passions,  and  the  imagination  which 
principally  raises  them,  have  here  very  little  to  do.  When 
a  room  appears  in  its  original  nakedness,  bare  walls  and  a 
plain  ceiling ;  let  its  proportion  be  ever  so  excellent,  it  pleas- 
es very  little  ;  a  cold  approbation  is  the  utmost  we  can  reach  } 
a  much  worse-proportioned  room  with  elegant  mouldings 
and  fine  festoons,  glasses,  and  other  merely  ornamental  fur- 
niture, will  make  the  imagination  revolt  against  the  reason; 
it  will  please  much  more  than  the  naked  proportion  of  the 
first  room,  which  the  understanding  has  so  much  approved, 
as  admirably  fitted  for  its  purposes.  What  I  have  here  said 
and  before  concerning  proportion,  is  by  no  means  to  per- 
suade people  absurdly  to  neglect  the  idea  of  use  in  the  works 
of  art.  It  is  only  to  shew  that  these  excellent  things,  beau- 
ty and  proportion,  are  not  the  same  i  not  that  they  should 
either  of  them  be  disregarded. 

SECT.  VIII. 

THE    RECAPITULATION. 

ON  the  whole  ;  if  such  parts  in  human  bodies  as  are  found 
proportioned,  were  likewise  constantly  found  beautiful,  as 
they  certainly  are  not ;  or  if  they  were  so  situated,  as  that 
a  pleasure  might  flow  from  the  comparison,  which  they  sel- 
dom are  ;  or  if  any  assignable  proportions  were  found,  either 
in  plants  or  animals,  which  were  always  attended  with  beau- 
ty, which  never  was  the  case ;  or  if,  where  parts  were  well 
adapted  to  their  purposes,  they  were  constantly  beautiful, 
and  when  no  use  appeared,  there  was  no  beauty,  which  is 
contrary  to  all  experience ;  we  might  conclude,  that  beauty 
consisted  in  proportion  or  utility.  But  since,  in  all  respects, 
the  case  is  quite  otherwise ;  we  may  be  satisfied  that  beauty 
does  not  depend  on  these,  let  it  owe  its  origin  to  what  else 
it  will. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I5I 

SECT.  IX. 

PERFECTION   NOT   THE    CAUSE   OF    BEAUTY. 

THERE  is  another  notion  current,  pretty  closely  allied  to 
the  former  ;  that  perfection  is  the  constituent  cause  of  beaiity. 
This  opinion  has  been  made  to  extend  much  farther  than  to 
sensible  objects.  But  in  these,  so  far  is  perfection,  consider- 
ed as  such  from  being  the  cause  of  beauty  ;  that  this  quality, 
where  it  is  highest,  in  the  female  sex,  almost  always  carries 
with  it  an  idea  of  weakness  and  imperfection.  Women  are 
very  sensible  of  this  ;  for  which  reason,  they  learn  to  lisp, 
to  totter  in  their  walk,  to  counterfeit  weakness,  and  even 
sickness.  In  all  this  they  are  guided  by  nature.  Beauty  in 
distress  is  much  the  most  affecting  beauty.  Blushing  has  lit- 
tle less  power  j  and  modesty  in  general,  which  is  a  tacit  al- 
lowance of  imperfection,  is  itself  considered  as  an  amiable 
quality,  and  certainly  heightens  every  other  that  is  so.  I 
know  it  is  in  every  body's  mouth,  that  we  ought  to  love  per- 
fection. This  is  to  me  a  sufficient  proof,  that  it  is  not  the 
proper  object  of  love.  Whoever  said  we  ought  to  love  a  fine 
woman,  or  even  any  of  these  beautiful  animals  which  please 
us  ?  Here  to  be  affected,  there  is  no  need  of  the  concur- 
rence of  our  will. 

SECT.  X. 

HOW   FAR    THE   IDEA    OF    BEAUTY  MAY    BE  APPLIED  TO  THE 
QUALITIES    OF    THE    MIND. 

NOR  is  this  remark  in  general  less  applicable  to  the  quali- 
ties of  the  mind.  Those  virtues  which  cause  admiration,  and 
are  of  the  sublimer  kind,  produce  terrour  rather  than  love  j 
such  as -fortitude,  justice,  wisdom,  and  the  like.  Never  was 
any  man  amiable  by  force  of  these  qualities.  Those  which 
engage  our  hearts,  which  impress  us  with  a  sense  of  loveli- 
ness, are  the  softer  virtues  ;  easiness  of  temper,  compassion, 
kindness,  and  liberality  ;  though  certainly  those  latter  are  of 


152  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

less  immediate  and  momentous  concern  to  society,  and  of 
less  dignity.  But  it  is  for  that  reason  that  tjiey  are  so  ami- 
ble.  The  great  virtues  turn  principally  on  dangers,  punish- 
ments, and  troubles,  and  are  dxercised  rather  in  preventing 
the  worst  mischiefs,  than  in  dispensing  favours ;  and  are 
therefore  not  lovely,  though  highly  venerable.  The  subor- 
dinate turn  on  reliefs,  gratifications,  and  indulgences  •,  and 
are  therefore  more  lovely,  though  inferiour  in  dignity. 
Those  persons  vidio  creep  into  the  hearts  of  most  people,  who 
are  chosen  as  the  companions  of  their  softer  hours,  and  their 
reliefs  from  care  and  anxiety,  are  never  persons  of  shining 
qualities  or  strong  virtues.  It  is  rather  the  soft  green  of  the 
soul  on  which  we  rest  our  eyes  tliat  are  fatigued  with  behold- 
ing more  glaring  objects.  It  is  worth  observing  how  we  feel 
ourselves  affected  in  reading  the  characters  of  Caesar  and 
Cato,  as  they  are  so  finely  drawn  and  contrasted  in  Sallust. 
In  one  the  ignoscendo^  largiundo  ;  in  the  other,  ;///  largiiindo. 
In  one  the  miseris  perfugium  ;  in  the  other,  malis  permciem. 
In  the  latter  we  have  much  to  admire,  much  to  reverence, 
and  perhaps  something  to  fear  ;  we  respect  him,  but  we  re- 
spect him  at  a  distance.  The  former  makes  us  familiar  with 
him ;  we  love  him,  and  he  leads  us  v/hither  he  pleases.  To 
draw  things  closer  to  our  first  and  most  natural  feelings,  I 
will  add  a  remark  made  upon  reading  this  section  by  an  in- 
genious friend.  The  authority  of  a  father,  so  useful  to  our 
well-being,  and  so  justly  venerable  upon  all  accounts,  hinders 
us  from  having  tl^at  entire  love  for  him  that  we  have  for  our 
mothers,  where  the  parental  authority  is  almost  melted  down 
into  the  mother's  fondness  and  indulgence.  But  we  gener- 
ally have  a  great  love  for  our  grandfathers  in  whom  this  au- 
thority is  removed  a  degree  from  us,  and  where  the  weakness 
of  age  mellows  it  into  something  of  a  feminine  partiality. 

SECT.  XI. 

HOW  FAR  THE  IDEA  OF  BEAUTY  MAY  BE  APPLIED  TO  VIRTUE. 

FROM  what  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing  section  we  may 
easily  see,  how  far  the  application  of  beauty  to  virtue,  may  be 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I53 

made  with  propriety.     The  general  application  of  this  quality 
to  virtue,   has  a  strong    tendency  to  confound  our    ideas   of 
things  ;  and  it  has  given  rise  to  an  infinite  deal  of  Avhimsical 
theory  ;  as  the    affixing  the    name  of  beauty  to  proportion, 
congruity,  and  perfection,  as  well  as  to  qualities  of  things  yet 
more  remote  from  our  natural  ideas  of  it,  and  from  one  an- 
other, has  tended  to  confound  our  ideas  of  beauty,  and  left  us 
no  standard  or  rule  to  judge  by,  that  was  not  even  more  un- 
certain and  fallacious  than  our   own  fancies.     This  loose  and 
inaccurate  manner  of  speaking,  has  therefore  misled  us  both 
in  the  theory  of  taste  and  of  morals  ;  and  induced  us  to  re- 
move the  science  of  our  duties  from  their  proper  basis,  (our 
reason,  our  relations,  and  our  necessities,)  to  rest  it  upon  foun- 
dations altogether  visionary  and  unsubstantial. 

SECT.  XII. 

THE  REAL  CAUSE  OF  BEAUTY. 

HAVING  endeavoured  to  shew  what  beauty  is  not,  it  re- 
mains that  we  should  examine,  at  least  with  equal  attention, 
in  what  it  really  consists.  Beauty  is  a  thing  much  too  affect- 
ing not  to  depend  upon  some  positive  qualities.  And,  since 
it  is  no  creature  of  our  reason,  since  it  strikes  us  without  any 
reference  to  use,  and  even  where  no  use  at  all  can  be  dis- 
cerned, since  the  order  and  method  of  nature  is  generally  ve- 
ry different  from  our  measures  and  proportions,  we  must 
conclude  that  beauty  is,  for  the  greater  part,  some  quality  in 
bodies  acting  mechanically  upon  the  human  mind  by  the  in- 
tervention of  the  senses.  We  ought  therefore  to  consider 
attentively  in  what  manner  those  sensible  qualities  are  disposed, 
in  such  things  as  by  experience  we  find  beautiful,  or  which  ex- 
cite in  us  the  passion  of  love,  or  some  correspondent  affection. 

SECT.  XIII. 

BEAUTIFUL    OBJECTS    SMALL. 

THE  most  obvious  point  that  presents  itself  to  us  in  exam- 
ining any  object,  is  its  extent  or  quantity.     And  what  degree 
Vol.  I.  X 


154.  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

of  extent  prevails  in  bodies  that  arc  held  beautiful,  may  be 
gathered  from  the  usual  manner  of  expression  concerning  it. 
I  am  told  that,  in  most  languages,  the  objects  of  love  are 
spoken  of  under  diminutive  epithets.  It  is  so  in  all  the  lan- 
guages of  which  I  have  any  knowledge.  In  Greek  the  ««» 
and  other  diminutive  terms  are  almost  always  the  terms  of 
affection  and  tenderness.  These  diminutives  were  common- 
ly added  by  the  Greeks,  to  the  names  of  persons  with  whom 
they  conversed  on  the  terms  of  friendship  and  familiarity. 
Though  the  Romans  were  a  people  of  less  quick  and  delicate 
feelings,  yet  they  naturally  slid  into  the  lessening  termination 
upon  the  same  occasions.  Antiently  in  the  English  language 
the  diminishing  ling  was  added  to  the  names  of  persons  and 
things  that  were  the  objects  of  love.  Some  we  retain  still, 
as  darling  (or  little  dear),  and  a  few  others.  But  to  this  day, 
in  ordinary  conversation,  it  is  usual  to  add  the  endearing 
name  of  little  to  every  thing  we  love  :  the  French  and  Ital- 
ians make  use  of  these  affectionate  diminutives  even  more 
than  we.  In  the  animal  creation,  out  of  our  own  species,  it 
is  the  small  we  are  inclined  to  be  fond  of ;  little  birds,  and 
some  of  the  smaller  kinds  of  beasts.  A  great  beautiful  thing 
is  a  manner  of  expression  scarcely  ever  used ;  but  that  of  a 
great  ugly  thing,  is  very  common.  There  is  a  wide  differ- 
ence between  admiration  and  love.  The  sublime,  which  is 
the  cause  of  the  former,  always  dwells  on  great  objects,  and 
terrible  ;  the  latter  on  small  ones,  and  pleasing  ;  we  submit 
to  what  we  admire,  but  we  love  what  submits  to  us  ;  in  one 
case  we  are  forced,  in  the  other  we  are  flattered,  into  compli- 
ance. In  short,  the  ideas  of  the  sublime  and  the  beautiful 
stand  on  foundations  so  different,  that  it  is  hard,  I  had  al- 
most said  impossible,  to  think  of  reconciling  them  in  the 
same  subject,  without  considerably  lessening  the  effect  of  the 
one  or  the  other  upon  the  passions.  So  that,  attending  to 
their  quantity,  beautiful  objects  are  comparatively  small. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  155 

SECT.  XIV. 

SMOOTHNESS. 

THE  next  property  constantly  observable  In  such  objects 
as  *  smoothness  :  a  quality  so  essential  to  beauty,  that  I  do  not 
now  recollect  any  thing  beautiful  that  is  not  smooth.  In 
trees  and  flowers,  smooth  leaves  are  beautiful  j  smooth  slopes 
of  earth  in  gardens ;  smooth  streams  in  the  landscape;  smooth 
coats  of  birds  and  beasts  in  animal  beauties ;  in  fine  women, 
smooth  skins ;  and  in  several  sorts  of  ornamental  furniture, 
smooth  and  polished  surfaces.  A  very  considerable  part  of 
the  effect  of  beauty  is  owing  to  this  quality  ;  indeed  the 
most  considerable.  For  take  any  beautiful  object,  and  give 
it  a  broken  and  rugged  surface  ;  and  however  well  formed  it 
may  be  in  other  respects,  it  pleases  no  longer.  Whereas,  let 
it  want  ever  so  many  of  the  other  constituents,  if  it  wants 
not  this,  it  becomes  more  pleasing  than  almost  all  the  others 
without  it.  This  seems  to  me  so  evident,  that  I  am  a  good 
deal  surprised,  that  none  who  have  handled  the  subject  have 
made  any  mention  of  the  quality  of  smoothness,  in  the  enu- 
meration of  those  that  go  to  the  forming  of  beauty.  For  in- 
deed any  ruggedness,  any  sudden  projection,  any  sharp  angle, 
is  in  the  highest  degree  contrary  to  that  idea. 

SECT.  XV. 

GRADUAL    VARIATION.. 

BUT  as  perfectly  beautiful  bodies  are  not  composed  of  an- 
gular parts,  so  their  parts  never  continue  long  in  the  same 
right  line.  -f-They  vary  their  direction  every  moment,  and 
they  change  under  the  eye  by  a  deviation  continually  carry- 
ing on,  but  for  whose  beginning  or  end  you  will  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  ascertain  a  point.  The  view  of  a  beautiful  bird  will 
illustrate  this  observation.     Here  we  see  the  head  increasing 

*  Part  IV.  sert.  SI.  f  Part  V.  sect.  2C. 


156  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

insensibly  to  the  middle,  from  whence  it  lessens  gradually  un- 
til it  mixes  with  the  neck  •,  the  neck  loses  itself  in  a  larger 
swell,  which  continues  to^the  middle  of  the  body,  when  the 
■whole  decreases  again  to  the  tail ;  the  tail  takes  a  new  direc- 
tion •,  but  it  soon  varies  its  new  course  :  it  blends  again  with 
the  other  parts  •,  and  the  line  is  perpetually  changing,  above, 
below,  upon  every  side.  In  this  description  I  have  before 
me  the  idea  of  a  dove ;  it  agrees  very  well  with  most  of  the 
conditions  of  beauty.  It  is  smooth  and  downy  ;  its  parts  are 
(to  use  that  expression)  melted  into  one  another ;  you  are 
presented  with  no  sudden  protuberance  through  the  whole, 
and  yet  the  whole  is  continually  changing.  Observe  that 
part  of  a  beautiful  woman  where  she  is  perhaps  the  most  beau- 
tiful, about  the  neck  and  breasts  ;  the  smoothness  ;  the  soft- 
ness J  the  easy  and  insensible  swell ;  the  variety  of  the  sur- 
face, which  is  never  for  the  smallest  space  the  same  •,  the  de- 
ceitful maze,  through  which  the  unsteady  eye  slides  giddily, 
without  knowing  Avhere  to  fix  or  whither  it  is  carried.  Is 
not  this  a  demonstration  of  that  change  of  surface,  continu- 
al, and  yet  hardly  perceptible  at  any  point,  which  forms  one 
of  the  great  constituents  of  beauty  ?  It  gives  me  no  small 
pleasure  to  find  that  I  can  strengthen  my  theory  in  this 
point,  by  the  opinion  of  the  very  ingenious  Mr.  Hogarth  ; 
whose  idea  of  the  line  of  beauty  I  take  in  general  to  be  ex- 
tremely just.  But  the  idea  of  variation,  without  attending 
so  accurately  to  the  manner  of  the  variation,  has  led  him  to 
consider  angular  figures  as  beautiful :  these  figures,  it  is  true, 
vary  greatly  ;  yet  they  vary  in  a  sudden  and  broken  manner; 
and  I  do  not  find  any  natural  object  which  is  angular,  and  at 
the  same  time  beautiful.  Indeed  few  natural  objects  are  en- 
tirely angular.  But  I  think  those  which  approach  the  most 
nearly  to  it  are  the  ugliest.  I  must  add  too,  that,  so  far  as  I 
could  observe  of  nature,  though  the  varied  line  is  that  alone 
in  which  complete  beauty  is  found,  yet  there  is  no  particular 
line  which  is  always  found  in  the  most  completely  beautiful, 
and  which  is  therefore  beautiful  in  preference  to  all  other 
lines.     At  least  I  never  could  observe  it. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  157 

SECT.  XVI. 

DELICACY. 

AN  air  of  robustness  and  strength  is  very  prejudicial  to 
beauty.  An  appearance  of  delicacy,  and  even  of  fragility,  is 
almost  essential  to  it.  Whoever  examines  the  vegetable  or 
animal  creation,  will  find  this  observation  to  be  founded  in 
nature.  It  is  not  the  oak,  the  ash,  or  the  elm,  or  any  of  the 
robust  trees  of  the  forest,  which  we  consider  as  beautiful  5 
they  are  awful  and  majestick  ;  they  inspire  a  sort  of  rever- 
ence. It  is  the  delicate  myrtle,  it  is  the  orange,  it  is  the  al- 
mond, it  is  the  jasinine,  it  is  the  vine,  which  we  look  on  as 
vegetable  beauties.  It  is  the  flowery  species,  so  remarkable 
for  its  weakness  and  momentary  duration,  that  gives  us  the 
liveliest  idea  of  beauty  and  elegance.  Among  animals,  the 
greyhound  is  more  beautiful  than  the  mastiff;  and  the  deli- 
cacy of  a  gennet,  a  barb,  or  an  Arabian  horse,  is  much  more 
amiable  than  the  strength  and  stability  of  some  horses  of  war 
or  carriage.  I  need  here  say  little  of  the  fair  sex,  where  I 
believe  the  point  will  be  easily  allowed  me.  The  beauty  of 
women  is  considerably  owing  to  their  weakness  or  delicacy, 
and  is  even  enhanced  by  their  timidity,  a  quality  of  mind 
analogous  to  it.  I  would  not  here  be  understood  to  say,  that 
weakness  betraying  very  bad  health  has  any  share  in  beauty ; 
but  the  ill  effect  of  this  is  not  because  it  is  weakness,  but  be- 
cause the  ill  state  of  health  which  produces  such  weakness, 
alters  the  other  conditions  of  beauty ;  the  parts  in  such  a  case 
collapse;  the  bright  colour,  the  lumen  purpureum  jwuent^e,  is 
gone;  and  the  fine  variation  is  lost  in  wrinkles,  sudden 
breaks,  and  right  lines. 

SECT.  XVII. 

BEAUTY    IN    COLOUR. 

AS  to  the  colours  usually  found  in  beautiful  bodies,  it  may 
be  somewhat  diiBcult  to  ascertain  them,  because,  in  the  sev- 


158  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

eral  parts  of  nature,  there  is  an  infinite  variety.  However, 
even  in  this  variety,  we  may  mark  out  something  on  which 
to  settle.  First,  the  colours  of  beautiful  bodies  must  not  be 
dusky  or  muddy,  but  clean  and  fair.  Secondly,  they  must 
not  be  of  the  strongest  kind.  Those  which  seem  most  ap- 
propriated to  beauty,  are  the  milder  of  every  sort ;  light 
greens  ;  soft  blues ;  weak  whites ;  pink  reds ;  and  violets. 
Thirdly,  if  the  colours  be  strong  and  vivid,  they  are  always 
diversified,  and  the  object  is  never  of  one  strong  colour  ; 
there  are  almost  always  such  a  number  of  them,  (as  in  varie- 
gated flowers)  that  the  strength  and  glare  of  each  is  consid- 
erably abated.  In  a  fine  complexion,  there  is  not  only  some 
variety  in  the  colouring,  but  the  colours :  neither  the  red  nor 
the  white  are  strong  and  glaring.  Besides,  they  are  mixed 
in  such  a  manner,  and  with  such  gradations,  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  fix  the  bounds.  On  the  same  principle  it  is,  that  the 
dubious  colour  in  the  necks  and  tails  of  peacocks,  and  about 
the  heads  of  drakes,  is  so  very  agreeable.  In  reality,  the 
beauty  both  of  shape  and  colouring  are  as  nearly  related,  as 
we  can  well  suppose  it  possible  for  things  of  such  different 
natures  to  be. 

SECT.  XVIII. 

RECAPITULATION. 

ON  the  whole,  the  qualities  of  beauty,  as  they  are  merely 
sensible  qualities,  are  the  following.  First,  to  be  comparative- 
ly small.  Secondly,  to  be  smooth.  Thirdly,  to  have  a  va- 
riety in  the  direction  of  the  parts ;  but,  fourthly,  to  have 
those  parts  not  angular,  but  melted  as  it  were  into  each  other. 
Fifthly,  to  be  of  a  delicate  frame,  without  any  remarkable 
appearance  of  strength.  Sixthly,  to  have  its  colours  clear 
and  bright,  but  not  very  strong  and  glaring.  Seventhly,  or 
if  it  should  have  any  glaring  colour,  to  have  it  diversified 
with  others.  These  are,  I  believe,  the  properties  on  which 
beauty  depends ;  properties  that  operate  by  nature,  and  are 
less  liable  to  be  altered  by  caprice,  or  confounded  by  a  diver- 
sity of  tastes,  than  any  other. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  159. 

SECT.  XIX. 

THE   PHYSIOGNOMY. 

THE  physiognomy  has  a  considerable  share  In  beauty,  es- 
pecially in  that  of  our  own  species.  The  manners  give  a 
certain  determination  to  the  countenance  ;  which  being  ob- 
served to  correspond  pretty  regularly  with  them,  is  capable 
of  joining  the  effects  of  certain  agreeable  qualities  of  the 
mind  to  those  of  the  body.  So  that  to  form  a  finished  hu- 
man beauty,  and  to  give  it  its  full  influence,  the  face  must 
be  expressive  of  such  gentle  and  amiable  qualities,  as  corres- 
pond with  the  softness,  smoothness,  and  delicacy  of  the  out- 
ward form. 

SECT.  XX. 

THE   EYE. 

I  HAVE  hitherto  purposely  omitted  to  speak  of  the  eyt^ 
which  has  so  great  a  share  in  the  beauty  of  the  animal  crea- 
tion, as  it  did  not  fall  so  easily  under  the  foregoing  heads, 
though  in  fact  it  is  reducible  to  the  same  principles.  I  think 
then,  that  the  beauty'of  the  eye  consists,  first,  in  its  clearness  j. 
what  coloured  eye  shall  please  most,  depends  a  good  deal  on 
particular  fancies  ;  but  none  are  pleased  with  an  eye  whose 
water  (to  use  that  term)  is  dull  and  muddy.*  We  are  pleased 
with  the  eye  in  this  view,  on  the  principle  upon  which  we 
like  diamonds,  clear  water,  glass,  and  such  like  transparent 
substances.  Secondly,  the  motion  of  the  eye  contributes  to 
its  beauty,  by  continually  shifting  its  direction  j  but  a  slow 
and  languid  motion  is  more  beautiful  than  a  brisk  one  j  the 
latter  is  enlivening  ;  the  former  lovely.  Thirdly,  with  re- 
gard to  the  union  of  the  eye  with  the  neighbouring  parts,  it 
is  to  hold  the  same  rule  that  is  given  of  other  beautiful  ones; 
it  is  not  to  make  a  strong  deviation  from   the  line  of  the 

*  Part  IV.  sect.  25. 


160  ON  THE  SUBLIME 


neighbouring  parts  ;  nor  to  verge  into  any  exact  geometrical 
figure.  Besides  all  this,  the  eye  affects,  as  it  is  expressive  of 
some  qualities  of  the  mind,  and  its  principal  power  generally 
arises  from  this ;  so  that  what  we  have  just  said  of  the  phys- 
iognomy is  applicable  here. 


SECT.  XXI. 


UGLINESS. 


IT  may  perhaps  appear  like  a  sort  of  repetition  of  what 
we  have  before  said,  to  insist  here  upon  the  nature  of  ugli- 
ness ;  as  I  imagine  it  to  be  in  all  respects  the  opposite  to  those 
qualities  which  we  have  laid  down  for  the  constituents  of 
beauty.  But  though  ugliness  be  the  opposite  to  beauty,  it  is 
not  the  opposite  to  proportion  and  fitness.  For  it  is  possible 
that  a  thing  may  be  very  ugly  with  any  proportions,  and  with 
a  perfect  fitness  to  any  uses.  Ugliness  I  imagine  likewise  to 
be  consistent  enough  with  an  idea  of  the  sublime.  But  I 
would  by  no  means  insinuate  that  ugliness  of  itself  is  a  sub- 
lime idea,  unless  united  with  such  qualities  as  excite  a  strong 
terrour. 

SECT.  XXII. 

GRACE. 

GRACEFULNESS  is  an  idea  not  very  different  from 
beauty  \  it  consists  in  much  the  same  things.  Gracefulness 
is  an  idea  belonging  to  posture  and  motioti.  In  both  these,  to 
be  graceful,  it  is  requisite  that  there  be  no  appearance  of  dif- 
ficulty j  there  is  required  a  small  inflection  of  the  body  ;  and 
a  composure  of  the  parts  in  such  a  manner,  as  not  to  incum- 
ber each  other,  not  to  appear  divided  by  sharp  and  sudden 
angles.  In  this  ease,  this  roundness,  this  delicacy  of  attitude 
and  motion,  it  is  that  all  the  magick  of  grace  consists,  and  what 
is  called  its  je  ne  Sfai  quoi ;  as  will  be  obvious  to  any  observer, 
who  considers  attentively  the  Venus  de  Medicis,  the  Antinous, 
or  any  statue  generally  allowed  to  be  graceful  in  a  high  degree. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  161 

SECT.  XXIII. 

ELEGANCE    AND  SPECIOUSNESS. 

WHEN  any  body  is  composed  of  parts  smooth  and  pol- 
ished, without  pressing  upon  each  other,  without  shewing 
any  ruggedness  or  confusion,  and  at  the  same  time  affecting 
some  regular  shape^  I  call  it  elegant.  It  is  closely  allied  to  the 
beautiful, differing  from  it  only  in  this  regularity  \  which,  how- 
ever, as  it  makes  a  very  material  difference  in  the  affection 
produced,  may  very  well  constitute  another  species.  Under 
this  head  I  rank  those  delicate  and  regular  works  of  art,  that 
imitate  no  determinate  object  in  nature,  as  elegant  buildings, 
and  pieces  of  furniture.  When  any  object  partakes  of  the 
above-mentioned  qualities,  or  of  those  of  beautiful  bodies, 
and  is  withal  of  great  dimensions,  it  is  full  as  remote  from 
the  idea  of  mere  beauty  •,  I  call  it  fine  or  specious. 

SECT.  XXIV. 

THE  BEAUTIFUL    IN    FEELING. 

THE  foregoing  description  of  beauty,  so  far  as  it  is  taken 
in  by  the  eye,  may  be  greatly  illustrated  by  describing  the 
nature  of  objects,  which  produce  a  similar  effect  tlirough  the 
touch.  This  I  call  the  beautiful  in  Feeling.  It  corresponds 
wonderfully  with  what  causes  the  same  species  of  pleasure 
to  the  sight.  There  is  a  chain  in  all  our  sensations  ;  they 
are  all  but  different  sorts  of  feelings  calculated  to  be  affected 
by  various  sorts  of  objects,  but  all  to  be  affected  after  the 
same  manner.  All  bodies  that  are  pleasant  to  the  touch, 
are  so  by  the  slightness  of  the  resistance  they  make.  Re- 
sistance is  either  to  motion  along  the  surface,  or  to  the 
pressure  of  the  parts  on  one  another  :  if  the  former  be  slight, 
we  call  the  body  smooth  ;  if  the  latter,  soft.  The  chief 
pleasure  we  receive  by  feeling,  is  in  the  one  or  the  other  of 
these  qualities  ;  and  if  there  be  a  combination  of  both,  our 
pleasure  is  greatly  increased.     This  is  so  plain,  that  it  is  rather 

Vol.  I.  Y 


16*2  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

more  fit  to  illustrate  other  things,  than  to  be  illustrated  It- 
self by  an  example.  The  next  source  of  pleasure  in  this 
sense,  as  in  every  other,  is  the  continually  presenting  some- 
what new  ;  and  we  find  that  bodies  which  continually  vary 
their  surface,  are  much  the  most  pleasant  or  beautiful  to  the 
feeling,  as  any  one  that  pleases  may  experience.  The  third 
property  in  such  objects  is,  that  though  the  surface  continu- 
ally varies  its  direction,  it  never  varies  it  suddenly.  The 
application  of  any  thing  sudden,  even  though  the  impression 
itself  have  little  or  nothing  of  violence,  is  disagreeable. 
The  quick  application  of  a  finger  a  little  warmer  or  colder 
than  usual,  without  notice,  makes  us  start  ;  a  slight  tap  on 
the  shoulder,  not  expected,  has  the  same  efi^ect.  Hence  it 
is  that  angular  bodies,  bodies  that  suddenly  vary  the  direc- 
tion of  the  outline,  afford  so  little  pleasure  to  the  feeling. 
Every  such  change  is  a  sort  of  climbing  or  falling  in  minia- 
ture ;  so  that  squares,  triangles,  and  other  angular  figures 
are  neither  beautiful  to  the  sight  nor  feeling.  Whoever  com- 
pares his  state  of  mind,  on  feeling  soft,  smooth,  variegated, 
unangular  bodies,  with  that  in  which  he  finds  himself,  on 
the  view  of  a  beautiful  object,  will  perceive  a  very  striking 
analogy  in  the  effects  of  both  ;  and  which  may  go  a  good 
way  towards  discovering  their  common  cause.  Feeling  and 
sight,  in  this  respect,  differ  in  but  a  few  points.  The  touch 
takes  in  the  pleasure  of  softness,  which  is  not  primarily  an 
object  of  sight ;  the  sight,  on  the  other  hand,  comprehends 
colour,  which  can  hardly  be  made  perceptible  to  the  touch  : 
the  touch  again  has  the  advantage  in  a  new  idea  of  pleasure 
resulting  from  a  moderate  degree  of  warmth  ;  but  the  eye 
triumphs  in  the  infinite  extent  and  multiplicity  of  its  objects. 
But  there  is  such  a  similitude  in  the  pleasures  of  these  senses, 
that  I  am  apt  to  fancy,  if  it  were  possible  that  one  might 
discern  colour  by  feeling  (as  it  is  said  some  blind  men  have 
done,)  that  the  same  colours,  and  the  same  disposition  of 
colouring,  which  are  found  beautiful  to  the  sight,  would  be 
found  likewise  most  grateful  to  the  touch.  But,  setting  aside 
conjectures,  let  us  pass  to  the  other  sense  ;  of  hearing. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  J(J3 

SECT.  XXV. 

THE   BEAUTIFUL    IN    SOUNDS. 

IN  this  sense  we  find  an  equal  aptitude  to  be  affected  in  a 
soft  and  delicate  manner  ;  and  how  far  sweet  or  beautiful 
sounds  agree  with  our  descriptions  of  beauty  in  other  senses, 
the  experience  of  every  one  must  decide.  Milton  has  de- 
scribed this  species  of  musick  in  one  of  his  juvenile  poems.* 
I  need  not  say  that  Milton  was  perfectly  well  versed  in  that 
art  ;  and  that  no  man  had  a  finer  ear,  with  a  happier  man- 
ner of  expressing  the  affections  of  one  sense  by  metaphors 
taken  from  another.     The  description  is  as  follows : 

And  ever  against  eating  caresy 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs  ; 

In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 

Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out  ; 

With  luanton  heed,  and  giddy  cunnings 

The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running  ; 

Untwisting  a/I  the  chains  that  tie 

The  hidden  soul  of  harmony. 

Let  us  parallel  this  with  the  softness,  the  winding  surface, 
the  unbroken  continuance,  the  easy  gradation  of  the  beauti- 
ful in  other  things  ;  and  all  the  diversities  of  the  several 
senses,  with  all  their  several  aftections,  will  rather  help  to 
throw  lights  from  one  another  to  finish  one  clear,  consistent 
idea  of  the  whole,  than  to  obscure  it  by  their  intricacy  and 
variety. 

To  the  above-mentioned  description  I  shall  add  one  or 
two  remarks.  The  first  is  ;  that  the  beautiful  in  musick 
will-not  bear  that  loudness  and  strength  of  sounds,  which 
may  be  used  to  raise  other  passions  ;  nor  notes  which  are 
shrill,  or  harsh,  or  deep  ;  it  agrees  best  with  such  as  are  clear, 
even,  smooth,  and  weak.  The  second  is  ;  that  great  vari- 
ety, and  quick  transitions  from  one  measure  or  tone  to 
another,  are  contrary  to  the  genius  of  the  beautiful  in  mu- 

*   L'allcgro. 


164  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

sick.  Such*  transitions  often  excite  mirth,  or  other  sudden 
and  tumultuous  passions  j  but  not  that  sinking,  that  mehing, 
that  languor,  which  is  the  characteristical  effect  of  the 
beautiful  as  it  regards  every  sense.  The  passion  excited  by 
beauty  is  in  fact  nearer  to  a  species  of  melancholy,  than  to 
jollity  and  mirth.  I  do  not  here  mean  to  confine  musick  to 
any  one  species  of  notes,  or  tones,  neither  is  it  an  art  in 
which  I  can  say  I  have  any  great  skill.  My  sole  design  in 
this  remark  is,  to  settle  a  consistent  idea  of  beauty.  The 
infinite  variety  of  the  affections  of  the  soul  will  suggest  to  a 
good  head,  and  skilful  ear,  a  variety  of  such  sounds  as  are 
fitted  to  raise  them.  It  can  be  no  prejudice  to  this,  to  clear 
and  distinguish  some  few  particulars,  that  belong  to  the 
same  class,  and  are  consistent  with  each  other,  from  the 
immense  crowd  of  different,  and  sometimes  contradictory 
ideas,  that  rank  vulgarly  under  the  standard  of  beauty. 
And  of  these  it  is  my  intention  to  mark  such  only  of  the 
leading  points  as  shew  the  conformity  of  the  sense  of  hear- 
ing, with  all  the  other  senses  in  the  article  of  their  pleasures. 

SECT.  XXVI. 

TASTE    AND    SMELL. 

THIS  general  agreement  of  the  senses  is  yet  more  evi- 
dent on  minutely  considering  those  of  taste  and  smell.  We 
metaphorically  apply  the  idea  of  sweetness  to  sights  and 
sounds ;  but  as  the  qualities  of  bodies  by  which  they  are  fitted 
to  excite  either  pleasure  or  pain  in  these  senses,  are  not  so 
obvious  as  they  are  in  the  others,  we  shall  refer  an  explana- 
tion of  their  analogy,  which  is  a  very  close  one,  to  that  part, 
wherein  we  come  to  consider  the  common  efficient  cause  of 
beauty,  as  it  regards  all  the  senses.  I  do  not  think  any  thing 
better  fitted  to  establish  a  clear  and  settled  idea  of  visual 
beauty,  than  this  way  of  examining  the  similar  pleasures  of 
other  senses  j  for  one  part  is  sometimes  clear  in  one  of  the 
senses,  that  is  more  obscure  in  another  ;  and  where  there  is 

*  I  ne'er  am  merry,  when  I  hear  sweet  musick.  Shakespear. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  165 

a  clear  concurrence  of  all,  we  may  with  more  certainty  speak 
of  any  one  of  them.  By  this  means,  they  bear  witness  to 
each  other  •,  nature  is,  as  it  were,  scrutinized  j  and  we  re- 
port nothing  of  her  but  what  we  receive  from  her  own  in- 
formation. 

SECT.  XXVII. 

THE   SUBLIME    AUD    BEAUTIFUL    COMPARED. 

ON  closing  this  general  view  of  beauty,  it  naturally  oc- 
curs, that  we  shouid  compare  it  with  the  sublime ;  and  in 
this  comparison  there  appears   a  remarkable  contrast.     For 
sublime  objects  are  vast  in  their  dimensions,  beautiful  ones 
comparatively  small :  beauty  should  be  smooth  and  polished  ; 
the  great,  rugged   and  negligent ;  beauty  should  shun   the 
right  line,  yet  deviate  from  it  insensibly  ;  the  great  in  many 
cases  loves  the  right  line  ;  and  when  it  deviates,  it  often 
makes  a  strong  deviation  :  beauty  should  not  be  obscure  ;  the 
great  ought  to  be  dark  and  gloomy  :  beauty  should  be  light 
and  delicate  ;  the  great  ought  to  be  solid,  and  even  massive. 
They  are  indeed  ideas  of  a  very  different  nature,  one  being 
founded  on  pain,  the  other  on  pleasure  j  and  however  they 
may  vary  afterwards  from  the  direct  nature  of  their  causes, 
yet  these  causes  keep  up  an  eternal  distinction  between  them, 
a  distinction  never  to  be  forgotten  by  any  whose  business  it 
is  to  affect   the  passions.     In  the  infinite  variety  of  natural 
combinations,  we  must  expect  to  find  the  qualities  of  things 
the  most  remote  imaginable  from  each  other  united  in  the 
same  object.     We  must  expect  also  to  find  combinations  of 
the  same  kind  in  the  works  of  art.     But  when  we  consider 
the  power  of  an  object  upon  our  passions,  we  must  know 
that  when  any  thing  is  intended  to  affect  the  mind  by  the 
force  of  some  predominant  property,  the  affection  produced 
is  like  to  be  the  more  uniform  and  perfect,  if  all  the  other 
properties  or  qualities  of  the  object  be   of  the  same  nature, 
and  tending  to  the  same  design  as  the  principal. 


156  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

If  blaeh  and  white  blendj  soften^  and  unitfy 

A  thousand  ivaysy  are  there  no  black  and  white  ? 

If  the  qualities  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful  are  sometimes 
found  united,  does  this  prove  that  they  are  the  same  5  does 
it  prove  that  they  are  any  way  allied  j  does  it  prove 
even  that  they  are  not  opposite  and  contradictory  ? 
Black  and  vsrhite  may  soften,  may  blend  5  but  they  are  not 
therefore  the  same.  Nor,  when  they  are  so  softened  and 
blended  with  each  other,  or  with  different  colours,  is  the 
power  of  black  as  black,  or  of  white  as  white,  so  strong  as 
when  each  stands  uniform  and  distinguished. 


THE    END   OF    THE   THIRD    PART. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY 


INTO    THE 


ORIGIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS 


OF    THE 


SUBLIME  AND  BEAUTIFUL, 


PART       IV. 


SECTION  I. 

OF  THE  EFFICIENT  CAUSE  OF  THE  SUBLIME  AND  BEAUTIFUL. 

W  HEN  I  say,  I  intend  to  inquire  into 
the  efficient  cause  of  sublimity  and  beauty,  I  would  not  be 
understood  to  say,  that  I  can  come  to  the  ultimate  cause.  I 
do  not  pretend  that  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  explain,  why  cer- 
tain affections  of  the  body  produce  such  a  distinct  emotion  of 
mind,  and  no  other  ;  or  why  the  body  is  at  all  affected  by  the 
mind,  or  the  mind  by  the  body.  A  little  thought  will  shew 
this  to  be  impossible.  But  I  conceive,  if  we  can  discover 
what  affections  of  the  mind  produce  certain  emotions  of  the 
body  •,  and  what  distinct  feelings  and  qualities  of  body  shall 
produce  certain  determinate  passions  in  the  mind,  and  no 
others,  I  fancy  a  great  deal  will  be  done  ;  something  not  un- 
useful  towards  a  distinct  knowledge  of  our  passions,  so  far  at 
least  as  we  have  them  at  present  under  our  consideration. 
This  is  all,  I  believe,  we  can  do.  If  we  could  advance  a  step 
farther,  difficulties  would  still  i-emain,  as  we  should  be  still 


168  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

equally  distant  from  the  first  cause.  When  Newton  first  dis- 
covered the  property  of  attraction,  and  settled  its  laws,  he 
found  it  served  very  well  to  explain  several  of  the  most  re- 
markable pha^nomena  in  nature  j  but  yet  with  reference  to 
the  general  system  of  things,  he  could  consider  attraction 
but  as  an  effect,  whose  cause  at  that  time  he  did  not  attempt 
to  trace.  But  when  he  afterwards  began  to  account  for  it 
by  a  subtile  elastick  cether,  this  great  man  (if  in  so  great  a 
man  it  be  not  impious  to  discover  any  thing  like  a  blemish) 
seemed  to  have  quitted  his  usual  cautious  manner  of  philoso- 
phising ;  since,  perhaps,  allowing  all  that  has  been  advanced 
on  this  subject  to  be  sufficiently  proved,  I  think  it  leaves  us 
with  as  many  difficulties  as  it  found  us.  That  great  chain  of 
causes,  which  links  one  to  another,  even  to  the  throne  of 
God  himself,  can  never  be  unravelled  by  any  industry  of 
ours.  When  we  go  but  one  step  beyond  the  immediate  sen- 
sible qualities  of  things,  we  go  out  of  our  depth.  All  we  do 
after  is  but  a  faint  struggle,  that  shews  we  are  in  an  element 
which  does  not  belong  to  us.  So  that  when  I  speak  of  cause, 
and  efficient  cause,  I  only  mean  certain  affections  of  the  mind, 
that  cause  certain  changes  in  the  body  j  or  certain  powers 
and  properties  in  bodies,  that  work  a  change  in  the  mind. 
As  if  I  were  to  explain  the  motion  of  a  body  falling  to  the 
ground,  I  would  say  it  was  caused  by  gravity ;  and  I  would 
endeavour  to  shew  after  v.'hat  manner  this  power  operated, 
without  attempting  to  shew  why  it  operated  in  this  manner  : 
or  if  I  were  to  explain  the  effects  of  bodies  striking  one  an- 
other by  the  common  laws  of  percussion,  I  should  not  en- 
deavour to  explain  how  motion  itself  is  communicated. 

SECT.  II. 

ASSOCIATION. 

IT  is  no  small  bar  in  the  way  of  our  inquiry  into  the 
cause  of  our  passions,  that  the  occasion  of  many  of  them  are 
given,  and  that  their  governing  motions  are  communicated  at 
a  time  when  we  have  not  capacity  to  reflect  on  them  ;  at  a 
time  of  which  all  sort  of  memory  is  worn  out  of  our  minds. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  169 

For  besides  such  things  as  affect  us  in  various  manners,  ac- 
cording to  their  natural  powers,  there  are  associations  made 
at  that  early  season,  which  we  find  it  very  hard  afterwards  to 
distinguish  from  natural  effects.  Not  to  mention  the  unac- 
countable antipathies  which  we  find  in  many  pei'sons,  we  all 
find  it  impossible  to  remember  when  a  steep  became  more 
terrible  than  a  plain ;  or  fire  or  water  more  terrible  than  a 
clod  of  earth  j  though  all  these  are  very  probably  either  con- 
clusions from  experience,  or  arising  from  the  premonitions 
of  others ;  and  some  of  them  impressed,  in  all  likelihood, 
pretty  late.  But  as  it  must  be  alloAved  that  many  things  af- 
fect us  after  a  certain  manner,  not  by  any  natural  powers 
they  have  for  that  purpose,  but  by  association  •,  so  it  would 
be  absurd,  on  the  other  hand,  to  say  that  all  things  affect  us 
by  association  only  ;  since  some  things  must  have  been  orig- 
inally and  naturally  agreeable  or  disagreeable,  from  which 
the  others  derive  their  associated  powers ;  and  it  would  be, 
I  fancy,  to  little  purpose  to  look  for  the  cause  of  our  passions 
in  association,  until  we  fail  of  it  in  the  natural  properties  of 
things. 

SECT.  III. 

CAUSE    OF    PAIN    AND    FEAR. 

I  HAVE  before  observed,*  that  whatever  is  qualified  to 
cause  terrour,  is  a  foundation  capable  of  the  sublime  ;  to 
which  I  add,  that  not  only  these,  but  many  things  from 
which  we  cannot  probably  apprehend  any  danger,  have  a 
similar  effect,  because  they  operate  in  a  similar  manner.  I 
observed  too,f  that  whatever  produces  pleasure,  positive  and 
original  pleasure,  is  fit  to  have  beauty  engrafted  on  it. 
Therefore,  to  clear  up  the  nature  of  these  qualities,  it  may 
be  necessary  to  explain  the  nature  of  pain  and  pleasure  on 
which  they  depend.  A  man  who  suffers  under  violent  bodi- 
ly pain,  (I  suppose  the  most  violent,  because  the  effect  may 
be  the  more  obvious  ;)  I  say  a  man  in  great  pain  has  his  teetk 

*  Part  I.  sect.  8.  f  Part  1,  sect.  10. 

Vol..  I.  Z 


170  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

set, his  eye-brows  are  violently  contracted,  his  forehead  is  wrin- 
kled, his  eyes  are  dragged  inwards,  and  rolled  with  great  vehe- 
mence, his  hair  stands  an  end,  the  voice  is  forced  out  in  short 
shrieks  and  groans,  and  the  whole  fabrick  totters.  Fear  or 
terrour,  which  is  an  apprehension  of  pain  or  death,  exhibits 
exactly  the  same  effects,  approaching  in  violence  to  those 
just  mentioned,  in  proportion  to  the  nearness  of  the  cause, 
and  the  weakness  of  the  subject.  This  is  not  only  so  in  the 
human  species  :  but  I  have  more  than  once  observed  in  dogs, 
under  an  apprehension  of  punishment,  that  they  have  writh- 
ed their  bodies,  and  yelped,  and  howled,  as  if  they  had  actu- 
ally felt  the  blows.  From  hence  I  conclude,  that  pain  and 
fear  act  upon  the  same  parts  of  the  body,  and  in  the  same 
manner,  though  somewhat  differing  in  degree  :  that  pain 
and  fear  consist  in  an  unnatural  tension  of  the  nerves  j  that 
this  is  sometimes  accompanied  with  an  unnatural  strength, 
which  sometimes  suddenly  changes  into  an  extraordinary 
weakness ;  that  these  effects  often  come  on  alternately,  and 
are  sometimes  mixed  with  each  other.  This  is  the  nature  of 
all  convulsive  agitations,  especially  in  weaker  subjects,  which 
are  the  most  liable  to  the  severest  impressions  of  pain  and 
fear.  The  only  difference  between  pain  and  terrour  is,  that 
things  which  cause  pain  operate  on  the  mind,  by  the  inter- 
vention of  the  body  ;  whereas  things  that  cause  terrour,  gen- 
erally affect  the  bodily  organs  by  the  operation  of  the  mind 
suggesting  the  danger  ;  but  both  agreeing,  either  primarily, 
or  secondarily,  in  producing  a  tension,  contraction,  or  violent 
emotion  of  the  nerves,*  they  agree  likewise  in  every  thing 
else.  For  it  appears  very  clearly  to  me,  from  this,  as  well 
as  from  many  other  examples,  that  when  the  body  is  dispos- 
ed, by  any  means  whatsoever,  to  such  emotions  as  it  would 
acquire  by  the  means  of  a  certain  passion ;  it  will  of  itself 
excite  something  very  like  that  passion  in  the  mind. 

*  I  do  not  here  enter  into  the  question  debated  among  physiologists, 
whether  pain  be  the  effect  of  a  contraction,  or  a  tension  of  the  nerves. 
Either  will  serve  my  purpose  ;  for  by  tension,  I  mean  no  more  than  a  vio- 
lent pulling  of  the  fibres,  which  compose  any  muscle  or  membrane,  in- 
whatever  way  this  u  done. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  171 

SECT.  IV. 

CONTINUED. 

TO  this  purpose  Mr.  Spon,  In  his  Recherches  d' Antiquite, 
gives  us  a  curious  story  of  the  celebrated  physiognomist  Cam- 
panella.     This  man,  it  seems,  had  not  only  made  very  accu- 
rate observations  on  human  faces,  but  was  very  expert  in  mim- 
icking such  as  were  anyway  remarkable.     When  he  had^ 
a  mind  to  penetrate  into  the  inclinations  of  those  he  had  to 
deal  with,  he  composed  his  face,  his  gesture,  and  his  whole 
body,  as  nearly  as  he  could  into  the  exact  similitude  of  the 
person  he  intended  to  examine  -,  and  then  carefully  observed 
what  turn  of  mind  he  seemed  to  acquire  by  this  change.     So 
that,  says  my  author,  he  was  able  to  enter  into  the  disposi- 
tions and  thoughts  of  people  as  effectually  as  if  he  had  been 
changed  into  the  very  men.     I  have  often  observed,  that  on 
mimicking  the  looks  and  gestures  of  angry,  or  placid,  or 
frighted,  or  daring  men,  I  have  involuntarily  found  my  mind 
turned  to  that  passion,  whose  appearance  I  endeavoured  to 
imitate ;  nay,  I  am  convinced  it  is  hard  to  avoid  it,  though 
one  strove  to  separate  the  passion  from  its   correspondent 
gestures.     Our  minds  and  bodies  are  so  closely  and    inti- 
mately connected,  that  one  is  incapable  of  pain  or  pleasure 
without  the  other.     Campanella,  of  whom    we  have  been 
speaking,  could  so  abstract  his  attention  from  any  sufferings 
of  his  body,  that  he  was  able  to  endure  the  rack  itself  with- 
out much  pain ;  and  in  lesser  pains  every  body  must  have 
observed,  that  when  we  can  employ  our  attention  on   any 
thing  else,  the  pain  has  been  for  a  time  suspended:  on  the 
other  hand,  if  by  any  means  the  body  is  indisposed  to  per- 
form such  gestures,   or  to  be  stimulated  into  such  emotions 
as  any  passion  usually  produces  in  it,  that  passion  itself  never 
can  arise,  though  its  cause  should  be  never  so  strongly  in 
action  ;  though  it  should  be  merely  mental,  and  immediately 
affecting  none  of  the  senses.     As  an  opiate,  or  spirituous  li- 
quors, shall  suspend  the  operation  of  grief,  or  fear,  or  anger, 
in  spite  of  all  our  efforts  to  the  contrary  ;  and  this  by  indue- 


172  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

ing  In  the  body  a  disposition  contrary  to  that  which  it  re- 
ceives from  these  passions. 

SECT.  V. 

HOW    THE    SUBLIME    IS    PRODUCED. 

HAVING  considered  terrour  as  producing  an  unnatural 
tension  and  certain  violent  emotions  of  the  nerves ;  it  easily 
follows,  from  what  we  have  just  said,  that  whatever  is  fitted 
to  produce  such  a  tension  must  be  productive  of  a  passion  simi- 
lar to  terrour,*  and  consequently  must  be  a  source  of  the 
sublime,  though  it  should  have  no  idea  of  danger  connected 
with  it.  So  that  little  remains  towards  shewing  the  cause  of 
the  sublime,  but  to  shew  that  the  instances  we  have  given  of 
it  in  the  second  part  relate  to  such  things,  as  are  fitted  by 
nature  to  produce  this  sort  of  tension,  either  by  the  primary 
operation  of  the  mind  or  the  body.  With  regard  to  such 
things  as  affect  by  the  associated  idea  of  danger,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  but  that  they  produce  terrour,  and  act  by  some 
modification  of  that  passion  ;  and  that  terrour,  when  suffi- 
ciently violent,  raises  the  emotions  of  the  body  just  mention- 
ed, can  as  little  be  doubted.  But  if  the  sublime  is  built  on 
terrour,  or  some  passion  like  it,  which  has  pain  for  its  object, 
it  is  previously  proper  to  inquire  how  any  species  of  delight 
can  be  derived  from  a  cause  so  apparently  contrary  to  it.  I 
say  delight  J  because,  as  I  have  often  remarked,  it  is  very  evi- 
dently different  in  its  cause,  and  in  its  own  nature,  from  actu- 
al and  positive  pleasure. 

SECT.  VI. 

HOW    PAIN   CAN    BE    A    CAUSE   OF    DELIGHT. 

PROVIDENCE  has  so  ordered  it,  that  a  state  of  rest 
and  inaction,  however  It  may  flatter  our  indolence,  should 
be  productive  of  many  inconveniences  •,  that  it  should  gener- 

*  Part  TI.  sect.  2. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I73 

ate  such  disorders,  as  may  force  us  to  have  recourse  to  some 
labour,  as  a  thing  absohxtely  requisite  to  make  us  pass  our 
lives  with  tolerable  satisfaction  5  for  the  nature  of  rest  is  to 
suffer  all  the  parts  of  our  bodies  to  fall  into  a  relaxation,  that 
not  only  disables  the  members  from  performing  their  func- 
tions, but  takes  away  the  vigorous  tone  of  fibre  which  is  re- 
quisite for  carrying  on  the  natural  and  necessary  secretions. 
At  the  same  time,  that  in  this  languid  inactive  state,  the 
nerves  are  more  liable  to  the  most  horrid  convulsions,  than 
when  they  are  sufEciently  braced  and  strengthened.  Melan- 
choly, dejection,  despair,  and  often  self  murder,  is  the  conscr 
quence  of  the  gloomy  view  we  take  of  things  in  this  relaxed 
state  of  body.  The  best  remedy  for  all  these  evils  is  exer- 
cise or  labour ;  and  labour  is  a  surmounting  of  difficulties^  an 
exertion  of  the  contracting  power  of  the  muscles  j  and  as 
such  resembles  pain,  which  consists  in  tension  or  contraction, 
in  every  thing  but  degree.  Labour  is  not  only  requisite  to 
preserve  the  coarser  organs  in  a  state  fit  for  their  functions ; 
but  it  is  equally  necessary  to  these  finer  and  more  delicate 
organs,  on  which,  and  by  which,  the  imagination  and  per- 
haps the  other  mental  powers  act.  Since  it  is  probable,  that 
not  only  the  inferiour  parts  of  the  soul,  as  the  passions  are 
called,  but  the  understanding  itself  makes  use  of  some  fine 
corporeal  instruments  in  its  operation  ;  though  what  they  are, 
and  where  they  are,  may  be  somewhat  hard  to  settle :  but 
that  it  does  make  use  of  such,  appears  from  hence ;  that  a 
long  exercise  of  the  mental  powers  induces  a  remarkable  las- 
situde of  the  whole  body ;  and  on  the  other  hand  that  great 
bodily  labour,  or  pain,  weakens  and  sometimes  actually  de- 
stroys the  mental  faculties.  Now,  as  a  due  exercise  is  essen- 
tial to  the  coarse  muscular  pails  of  the  constitution,  and  that 
without  this  rousing  they  would  become  languid  and  diseas- 
ed, the  very  same  rule  holds  with  regard  to  these  finer  parts 
we  have  mentioned ;  to  have  them  in  proper  order,  they 
must  be  shaken  und  worked  to  a  proper  degree. 


174-  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

SECT.  VII. 

EXERCISE    NECESSARY    FOR    THE    FINER    ORGANS. 

AS  common  labour,  whicli  is  a  mode  of  pain,  is  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  grosser,  a  mode  of  terrour  is  the  exercise  of  the 
finer  parts  of  the  system  ;  and  if  a  certain  mode  of  pain  be 
of  sucii  a  nature  as  to  act  upon  the  eye  or  the  ear,  as  they 
are  the  most  delicate  organs,  the  affection  approaches  more 
nearly  to  that  which  has  a  mental  cause.  In  all  these  cases, 
if  the  pain  and  terrour  are  so  modified  as  not  to  be  actually 
noxious  ;  if  the  pain  is  not  carried  to  violence,  and  the  ter- 
rour is  not  conversant  about  the  present  destruction  of  the 
person,  as  these  emotions  clear  the  parts,  whether  fine  or 
gross,  of  a  dangerous,  and  troublesome  incumbrance,  they 
are  capable  of  producing  delight ;  not  pleasure,  but  a  sort  of 
dejightful  horrour,  a  sort  of  tranquillity  tinged  with  terrour  j 
which,  as  it  belongs  to  self-preservation,  is  one  of  the  strong- 
est of  all  the  passions.  Its  object  is  the  sublime.*  Its  high- 
est degree  I  call  astonishment ;  the  subordinate  degrees  are 
awe,  reverence,  and  respect,  which  by  the  very  etymology  of 
the  words,  shew  from  what  source  they  are  derived,  and 
how  they  stand  distinguished  from  positive  pleasure. 

SECT.  VIII. 

WHY    THINGS    NOT    DANGEROUS    PRODUCE    A    PASSION    LIKE 

TERROUR. 

-j-A  MODE  of  terrour  or  pain  is  always  the  cause  of  the 
sublime.  For  terrour,  or  associated  danger,  the  foregoing 
explanation  is,  I  believe,  sufficient.  It  will  require  some- 
thing more  trouble  to  shew,  that  such  examples  as  I  have 
given  of  the  sublime  in  the  second  part,  are  capable  of  pro- 
ducing a  mode  of  pain,  and  of  being  thus  allied  to  terrour, 
and  to  be  accounted  for  on  the  same  principles.     And  first 

♦  Part  II.  sect.  2.       f  Part  I.  sect.  7.  Part  IL  sect.  2. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I75 

of  such  objects  as  are  great  in  their  dimensions.     I  speak  of 
visual  objects. 

SECT.  IX. 

WHY  VISUAL    OBJECTS  OF    GREAT    DIMENSIONS  ARE  SUBLIME. 

VISION  is  performed  by  having  a  picture  formed  by  the 
rays  of  hght  which  are  reflected  from  the  object  painted  in 
one  piece,  instantaneously,  on  the  retina,  or  last  nervous  part 
of  the  eye.  Or,  according  to  others,  there  is  but  one  point 
of  any  object  painted  on  the  eye  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be 
perceived  at  once ;  but  by  moving  the  eye,  we  gather  up, 
with  great  celerity,  the  several  parts  of  the  object,  so  as  to 
form  one  uniform  piece.  If  the  former  opinion  be  allowed,  it 
will  be  considered*,  that  though  all  the  light  reflected  from 
a  large  body  should  strike  the  eye  in  one  instant ;  yet  we 
must  suppose  that  the  body  itself  is  formed  of  a  vast  num- 
ber of  distinct  points,  every  one  of  which,  or  the  ray  from 
every  one,  makes  an  impression  on  the  retina.  So  that, 
though  the  image  of  one  point  should  cause  but  a  small  ten- 
sion of  this  membrane,  another,  and  another,  and  another 
stroke,  must  in  their  progress  cause  a  very  great  one,  until 
it  arrives  at  last  to  the  highest  degree  ;  and  the  whole  capac- 
ity of  the  eye,  vibrating  in  all  its  parts,  must  approach  near 
to  the  nature  of  what  causes  pain,  and  consequently  must 
produce  an  idea  of  the  sublime.  Again,  if  we  take  it,  that 
one  point  only  of  an  object  is  distinguishable  at  once  ;  the 
matter  will  amount  nearly  to  the  same  thing,  or  rather  it- 
will  make  the  origin  of  the  sublime  from  greatness  of  dim.en- 
sion  yet  clearer.  For  if  but  one  point  is  observed  at  once, 
the  eye  must  traverse  the  vast  space  of  such  bodies  v/ith  gi'eat 
quickness,  and  consequently  the  fine  nerves  and  muscles  des- 
tined to  the  motion  of  that  part  must  be  very  much  strain- 
ed ;  and  their  great  sensibility  must  make  them  highly  afl'ect- 
ed  by  this  straining.  Besides,  it  signifies  just  nothing  to 
the  effect  produced,  whether  a  body  has  its  parts  connected 

*  Part  IL  sect.  T. 


176  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

and  makes  its  impression  at  once ;  or,  making  but  one  im- 
pression of  a  point  at  a  time,  it  causes  a  succession  of  the 
same  or  others  so  quickly  as  to  make  them  seem  united ;  as 
is  evident  from  the  common  effect  of  whirling  about  a  light- 
ed torch  or  piece  of  wood  :  which  if  done  with  celerity, 
seems  a  circle  of  fire. 

SECT.  X. 

UNITY    WHY    REQUISITE    TO   VASTNESS. 

IT  may  be  objected  to  this  theory,  that  the  eye  generally 
receives  an  equal  number  of  rays  at  all  times,  and  that  there- 
fore a  great  object  cannot  afi'ect  it  by  the  number  of  rays, 
more  than  that  variety  of  objects  which  the  eye  must  ahvays 
discern  whilst  it  remains  open.  But  to  this  I  answer,  that 
admitting  an  equal  number  of  rays,  or  an  equal  quantity  of 
luminous  particles  to  strike  the  eye  at  all  times,  yet  if  these 
rays  frequently  vary  their  nature,  now  to  blue,  now  to  red, 
and  so  on,  or  their  manner  of  termination,  as  to  a  number  of 
petty  squares,  triangles,  or  the  like,  at  every  change,  wheth- 
er of  colour  or  shape,  the  organ  has  a  sort  of  relaxation  or 
rest ;  but  this  relaxation  and  labour  so  often  interrupted,  is 
by  no  means  productive  of  ease  ;  neither  has  it  the  effect  of 
vigorous  and  uniform  labour.  Whoever  has  remarked  the 
different  effects  of  some  strong  exercise,  and  some  little  pid- 
dling action,  will  understand  why  a  teasing  fretful  employ- 
ment, which  at  once  wearies  and  weakens  the  body,  should 
have  nothing  great ;  these  sorts  of  impulses,  which  are  rath- 
er teasing  than  painful,  by  continually  and  suddenly  alter- 
ing their  tenour  and  direction,  prevent  that  full  tension,  that 
species  of  uniform  labour,  which  is  allied  to  strong  pain,  and 
causes  the  sublime.  The  sum  total  of  things  of  various 
kinds,  though  it  should  equal  the  number  of  the  uniform 
parts  composing  some  one  entire  object,  is  not  equal  in  its 
effect  upon  the  organs  of  our  bodies.  Besides  the  one  al- 
ready assigned,  there  is  another  very  strong  reason  for  the 
difference.  The  mind  in  reality  hardly  ever  can  attend  dili- 
gently to  more  than  one  thing  at  a  time  •,  if  this  thing  be 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I77 

little,  the  effect  is  little,  and  a  number  of  other  little  objects 
cannot  engage  the  attention  ;  the  mind  is  bounded  by  the 
bounds  of  the  object ;  and  what  is  not  attended  to,  and  what 
does  not  exist,  are  much  the  same  in  the  effect ;  but  the  eye 
or  the  mind  (for  in  this  case  there  is  no  difference)  in  great 
uniform  objects  does  not  readily  arrive  at  their  bounds  ;  it 
has  no  rest,  whilst  it  contemplates  them  j  the  image  is  much 
the  same  every  where.  So  that  every  thing  great  by  its 
quantity  must  necessarily  be  one,  simple  and  entire. 

SECT.  XI. 

THE    ARTIFICIAL    INFINITE. 

WE  have  observed,  that  a  species  of  greatness  arises  from 
the  artificial  infinite  ;  and  that  this  infinite  consists  in  an  uni- 
form succession  of  great  parts  :  we  observed  too,  that  the 
same  uniform  succession  had  a  like  power  in  sounds.  But 
because  the  effects  of  many  things  are  clearer  in  one  of  the 
senses  than  in  another,  and  that  all  the  senses  bear  analogy 
to,  and  illustrate  one  another,  I  shall  begin  Avith  this  power 
in  sounds,  as  the  cause  of  the  sublimity  from  succession  is 
rather  more  obvious  in  the  sense  of  hearing.  And  I  shall 
here  once  for  all,  observe,  that  an  investigation  of  the  natural 
and  mechanical  causes  of  our  passions,  besides  the  curiosity 
of  the  subject,  gives,  if  they  are  discovered,  a  double  strength 
and  lustre  to  any  rules  we  deliver  on  such  matters.  When 
the  ear  receives  any  simple  sound,  it  is  struck  by  a  single 
pulse  of  the  air,  which  makes  the  ear-drum  and  the  other 
membranous  parts  vibrate  according  to  the  nature  and  spe- 
cies of  the  stroke.  If  the  stroke  be  strong,  the  organ  of 
hearing  suffers  a  considerable  degree  of  tension.  If  the 
stroke  be  repeated  pretty  soon  after,  the  repetition  causes  an 
expectation  of  another  stroke.  And  it  must  be  observed, 
that  expectation  itself  causes  a  tension.  This  is  apparent  in 
many  animals,  who,  when  they  prepare  for  hearing  any 
sound,  rouse  themselves,  and  prick  up  their  ears :  so  that 
here  the  effect  of  the  sounds  is  considerably  augmented  by  a 
new  auxiliary,  the  expectation.     But  though  after  a  number 

Vol.  I.  A  A 


178  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

of  strokes,  we  expect  still  more,  not  being  able  to  ascertain 
the  exact  time  of  their  arrival,  when  they  arrive,  they  pro- 
duce a  sort  of  surprise,  which  increases  this  tension  yet  fur- 
ther. For  I  have  observed,  that  when  at  any  time  I  have 
waited  very  earnestly  for  some  sound,  that  returned  at  inter- 
vals, (as  the  successive  firing  of  cannon)  though  I  fully  ex- 
pected the  return  of  the  sound,  when  it  came  it  always  made 
me  start  a  little  j  the  ear-drum  suffered  a  convulsion,  and  the 
whole  body  consented  with  it.  The  tension  of  the  part  thus 
increasing  at  every  blow,  by  the  united  forces  of  the  stroke 
itself,  the  expectation,  and  the  surprise,  it  is  worked  up  to 
such  a  pitch  as  to  be  capable  of  the  sublime ;  it  is  brought 
just  to  the  verge  of  pain.  Even  when  the  cause  has  ceased, 
the  organs  of  hearing  being  often  successively  struck  in  a 
similar  manner,  continue  to  vibrate  in  that  manner  for  some 
time  longer  ;  this  is  an  additional  help  to  the  greatness  of  the 
effect. 

SECT.  XII.      ^ 

THE   VIBRATIONS    MUST    BE    SIMILAR. 

BUT  if  the  vibration  be  not  similar  at  every  impression, 
it  can  never  be  carried  beyond  the  number  of  actual  impres- 
sions ;  for  move  any  body  as  a  pendulum,  in  one  way,  and  it 
will  continue  to  oscillate  in  an  arch  of  the  same  circle,  until 
the  known  causes  make  it  rest ;  but  if  after  first  putting  it 
in  motion  in  one  direction,  you  push  it  into  another,  it  can 
never  reassume  the  first  direction  ;  because  it  can  never  move 
itself,  and  consequently  it  can  have  but  the  effect  of  that  last 
motion  j  whereas,  if  in  the  same  direction  you  act  upon  it 
several  times,  it  will  describe  a  greater  arch,  and  move  a 
longer  time.  > 

SECT.  XIII. 

THE  EFFECT  OF  SUCCESSION  IN  VISUAL    OBJECTS  EXPLAINED. 

IF  we  can  comprehend  clearly  how  things  operate  upon  one 
of  our  senses,  there  can  be  very  little  difficulty   in  conceiv- 


AND  BEAUTIFUL. 


179 


ing  in  what  manner  they  affect  the  rest.  To  say  a  great  deal 
therefore  upon  the  corresponding  affections  of  every  sense, 
would  tend  rather  to  fatigue  us  by  an  useless  repetition,  than 
to  throw  any  new  h'ght  upon  the  subject,  by  that  ample  and 
diffuse  manner  of  treating  it  ;  but  as  in  this  discourse  we 
chiefly  attach  ourselves  to  the  sublime,  as  it  affects  the  eye, 
we  shall  consider  particularly  why  a  successive  disposition  of 
uniform  parts  in  the  same  right  line  should  be  sublime,*  and 
upon  what  principle  this  disposition  is  enabled  to  make  a 
comparatively  small  quantity  of  matter  produce  a  grander  ef- 
fect, than  a  much  larger  quantity  disposed  in  another  man- 
ner. To  avoid  the  perplexity  of  general  notions  ;  let  us  set 
before  our  eyes  a  colonnade  of  uniform  pillars  planted  in  a 
right  line  •,  let  us  take  our  stand  in  such  a  manner,  that  the 
eye  may  shoot  along  this  colonnade,  for  it  has  its  best  effect 
in  this  view.  In  our  present  situation  it  is  plain,  that  the 
rays  from  the  first  round  pillar  will  cause  in  the  eye  a  vibra- 
tion of  that  species  ;  an  image  of  the  pillar  itself.  The  pillar 
immediately  succeeding  increases  it  -,  that  which  follows  re- 
news and  enforces  the  impression  ;  each  in  its  order  as  it  suc- 
ceeds, repeats  impulse  after  impulse,  and  stroke  after  stroke, 
until  the  eye,  long  exercised  in  one  particular  way,  cannot 
lose  that  object  immediately  ;  and  being  violently  roused  by 
this  continued  agitation,  it  presents  the  mind  with  a  grand 
or  sublime  conception.  But  instead  of  viewing  a  rank  of 
uniform  pillars  ;  let  us  suppose  that  they  succeed  each  other, 
a  round  and  a  square  one  alternately.  In  this  case  the  vi- 
bration caused  by  the  first  round  pillar  perishes  as  soon  as  it 
is  formed  ;  and  one  of  quite  another  sort  (the  square)  di- 
rectly occupies  its  place  ;  which  however  it  resigns  as  quick- 
ly to  the  round  one  ;  and  thus  the  eye  proceeds,  alternately, 
taking  up  one  image,  and  laying  down  another,  as  long  as 
the  building  continues.  From  whence  it  is  bbvious,  that  at 
the  last  pillar,  the  impression  is  as  far  from  continuing  as  it 
was  at  the  very  first  j  because  in  fact,  the  sensory  can  re- 
ceive no  distinct  impression  but  from  the  last  ;  and  it  can 
never  of  itself  resume  a  dissimilar  impression  :  besides  every 
variation  of  the  object  is  a  rest  and  relaxation  to  the  organs 
of  sight  ;  and  these  reliefs  prevent  that  powerful  emotion  so 

*  Part  II.  sect.  10, 


180  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

necessary  to  produce  the  sublime.  To  produce  therefore  'x 
pci-fect  grandeur  in  such  things  as  we  have  been  mentioning, 
there  should  be  a  perfect  simplicity,  an  absolute  uniformity 
in  disposition,  shape,  and  colouring.  Upon  this  principle  of 
succession  and  uniformity  it  may  be  asked,  why  a  long  bare 
wall  should  not  be  a  more  sublime  object  than  a  colonnade ; 
since  the  succession  is  no  way  interrupted  ;  since  the  eye 
meets  no  check  ;  since  nothing  more  uniform  can  be  con- 
ceived ?  A  long  bare  wall  is  certainly  not  so  grand  an  object 
as  a  colonnade  of  the  same  length  and  height.  It  is  not  al- 
together difficult  to  account  for  this  difference.  When  we 
look  at  a  naked  wall,  from  the  evenness  of  the  object,  the 
eye  runs  along  its  whole  space,  and  arrives  quickly  at  its  ter- 
mination ;  the  eye  meets  nothing  which  may  interrupt  its 
progress  j  but  then  it  meets  nothing  which  may  detain  it  a 
proper  time  to  produce  a  very  great  and  lasting  effect.  The 
view  of  a  bare  wall,  if  it  be  of  a  great  height  and  length,  is 
undoubtedly  grand  :  but  this  is  only  one  idea,  and  not  a  repe- 
tit'ion  of  similar  ideas :  it  is  therefore  great,  not  so  much  up- 
on the  principle  of  injinityj  as  upon  that  of  vasttiess.  But 
we  are  not  so  powerfully  affected  with  any  one  impulse, 
unless  it  be  one  of  a  prodigious  force  indeed,  as  we  are 
with  a  succession  of  similar  impulses  j  because  the  nerves 
of  the  sensory  do  not  (if  I  may  use  the  expression)  acquire 
a  habit  of  repeating  the  same  feeling  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
continue  it  longer  than  its  cause  is  in  action  ;  besides  all  the 
effects  which  I  have  attributed  to  expectation  and  surprise 
in  sect.  11.  can  have  no  place  in  a  bare  wall. 

SECT.  XIV. 

Locke's  opinion  concerning  darkness  considered. 

IT  is  Mr.  Locke's  opinion,  that  darkness  is  not  naturally 
an  idea  of  terrour  ;  and  that  though  an  excessive  light  is 
painful  to  the  sense,  that  the  greatest  excess  of  darkness  is 
no  ways  troublesome.  He  observes  indeed  in  another  place, 
that  a  nurse  or  an  old  woman  having  once  associated  the 
ideas  of  ghosts  and  goblins  with  that  of  darkness,  night  ever 


AND  BEAUTIFUL. 


181 


after  becomes  painful  and  horrible  to  the  imagination.  The 
authority  of  this  great  man  is  doubtless  as  great  as  that  of 
any  man  can  be,  and  it  seems  to  stand  in  the  way  of  our  gen- 
eral principle.*  We  have  considered  darkness  as  a  cause  of 
the  sublime ;  and  we  have  all  along  considered  the  sublime 
as  depending  on  some  modification  of  pain  or  terrour :  so 
that  if  darkness  be  no  way  painful  or  terrible  to  any,  who 
have  not  had  their  minds  early  tainted  with  superstitions,  it 
can  be  no  source  of  the  subHme  to  them.  But,  with  all  def- 
erence to  such  an  authority,  it  seems  to  me,  that  an  associa- 
tion of  a  more  general  nature,  an  association  which  takes  in 
all  mankind,  may  make  darkness  terrible  ;  for  in  utter  dark- 
ness it  is  impossible  to  know  in  what  degree  of  safety  we 
stand ;  we  are  ignorant  of  the  objects  that  surround  us  ;  we 
may  every  moment  strike  against  some  dangerous  obstruc- 
tion ;  we  may  fall  down  a  precipice  the  first  step  we  take  ; 
and  if  an  enemy  approach,  we  know  not  in  what  quarter  to 
defend  ourselves ;  in  such  a  case  strength  is  no  sure  protec- 
tion ;  wisdom  can  only  act  by  guess ;  the  boldest  are  stag- 
gered, and  he  who  would  pray  for  nothing  else  towards  his 
defence  is  forced  to  pray  for  light. 

Ziv   larxlip,  «AA«5   au  fvcrat   vtv    r,:fog  viag  A^utaiv' 
Ylom^ov  ^'  dtSfi^v,   dog   d   o(p6xXf.{,ei7iv   idta-ffat' 
E»  §s   (peiu  x.eii   oXiaa-ov. 

As  to  the  association  of  ghosts,  and  goblins  ;  surely  it  is; 
more  natural  to  think,  that  darkness,  being  originally  an 
idea  of  terrour,  was  chosen  as  a  fit  scene  for  such  terrible 
representations,  than  that  such  representations  have  made 
darkness  terrible.  The  mind  of  man  very  easily  slides  into 
an  errour  of  the  former  sort ;  but  it  is  very  hard  to  imagine, 
that  the  effect  of  an  idea  so  universally  terrible  in  all  times, 
and  io  all  countries,  as  darkness,  could  possibly  have  been 
owing  to  a  set  of  idle  stories,  or  to  any  cause  of  a  nature  sa 
trivial,  and  of  an  operation  so  precarious. 

»  Part  II.  sect.  3. 


182  ON  rilL  SUBLIME 

SECT.  XV. 

DARKNESS    TERRIBLE    IN   ITS    OWN    NATURE. 

PERHAPS  it  may  appear  on  inquiry,  that  blackness  and 
darkness  are  in  some  degree  painful  by  their  natural  opera- 
tion, independent  of  any  associations  whatsoever.  I  must 
observe,  that  the  ideas  of  darkness  and  blackness  are  much 
the  same  •,  and  they  differ  only  in  this,  that  blackness  is  a 
more  confined  idea.  Mr.  Cheselden  has  given  us  a  very  cu- 
rious story  of  a  boy,  who  had  been  born  blind,  and  con- 
tinued so  until  he  was  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  old  ;  he  was 
then  couched  for  a  cataract,  by  which  operation  he  received 
his  sight.  Among  many  remarkable  particulars  that  attend- 
ed his  first  perceptions  and  judgments  on  visual  objects, 
Cheselden  tells  us,  that  the  first  time  the  boy  saw  a  black 
object,  it  gave  him  great  uneasiness :  and  that  some  time  af- 
ter, upon  accidentally  seeing  a  negro  woman,  he  was  struck 
with  great  horrour  at  the  sight.  The  horrour,  in  this  case, 
can  scarcely  be  supposed  to  arise  from  any  association.  The 
boy  appears  by  the  account  to  have  been  particularly  observing 
and  sensible  for  one  of  his  age  ;  and  therefore  it  is  proba- 
ble, if  the  great  uneasiness  he  felt  at  the  first  sight  of  black 
had  arisen  from  its  connexion  with  any  other  disagreeable 
ideas,  he  would  have  observed  and  mentioned  it.  For  an 
idea,  disagreeable  only  by  association,  has  the  cause  of  its  ill 
effect  on  the  passions  evident  enough  at  the  first  impression  ; 
in  ordinary  cases,  it  is  indeed  frequently  lost ;  but  this  is, 
because  the  original  association  was  made  very  early,  and  the 
consequent  impression  repeated  often.  In  our  instance,  there 
was  no  time  for  such  an  habit ;  and  there  is  no  reason  to 
think  that  the  ill  effects  of  black  on  his  imagination  were 
more  owing  to  its  connexion  with  any  disagreeable  ideas, 
than  that  the  good  effects  of  more  cheerful  colours  were  de- 
rived from  their  connexion  with  pleasing  ones.  They  had 
both  probably  their  effects  from  their  natural  operation. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  183 

SECT.  XVI. 

WHY    DARKNESS    IS    TERRIBLE. 

IT  may  be  worth  while  to  examine  how  darkness  can 
operate  in  such  a  manner  as  to  cause  pain.  It  is  observable, 
that  still  as  we  recede  from  the  light,  nature  has  so  contrived 
it,  that  the  pupil  is  enlarged  by  the  retiring  of  the  iris,  in 
proportion  to  our  recess.  Now,  instead  of  declining  from  it 
but  a  little,  suppose  that  we  withdraw  entirely  from  the 
light ;  it  is  reasonable  to  think,  that  the  contraction  of  the 
radial  fibres  of  the  iris  is  proportionably  greater  ;  and  that 
this  part  may  by  great  darkness  come  to  be  so  contracted,  as 
to  strain  the  nerves  that  compose  it  beyond  their  natural 
tone  j  and  by  this  means  to  produce  a  painful  sensation. 
Such  a  tension  it  seems  there  certainly  is,  whilst  we  are  in- 
volved in  darkness ;  for  in  such  a  state  whilst  the  eye  re- 
mains open,  there  is  a  continual  nisus  to  receive  light ;  this 
is  manifest  from  the  flashes  and  luminous  appearances  which 
often  seem  in  these  circumstances  to  play  before  it ;  and 
which  can  be  nothing  but  the  effect  of  spasms,  produced  by 
its  own  efforts  in  pursuit  of  its  object ;  several  other  strong 
impulses  will  produce  the  idea  of  light  In  the  eye,  besides 
the  substance  of  light  itself,  as  we  experience  on  many  oc- 
casions. Some  who  allow  darkness  to  be  a  cause  of  the  sub- 
lime, would  infer,  from  the  dilation  of  the  pupil,  that  a  re- 
laxation may  be  productive  of  the  sublime,  as  well  as  convul- 
sion :  but  they  do  not  I  believe  consider  that  although  the 
circular  ring  of  the  iris  be  in  some  sense  a  sphincter,  which 
may  possibly  be  dilated  by  a  simple  relaxation,  yet  in  one  re- 
spect it  differs  from  most  of  the  other  sphincters  of  the  bo- 
dy, that  it  is  furnished  with  antagonist  muscles,  which  are 
the  radial  fibres  of  the  iris  :  no  sooner  does  the  circular  mus- 
cle begin  to  relax,  than  these  fibres,  wanting  their  counter- 
poise, are  forcibly  drawn  back,  and  open  the  pupil  to  a  con- 
siderable wideness.  But  though  we  were  not  apprised  of 
this,  I  believe  any  one  will  find,  if  he  opens  his  eyes  and 
makes  an  effort  to  sec  in  a  dark  place,  that  a  very  perceiva- 


184?  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

ble  pain  ensues.  And  I  have  heard  some  ladies  remark, 
that  after  having  worked  a  long  time  upon  a  ground  of 
black,  their  eyes  were  so  pained  and  weakened,  they  could 
hardly  see.  It  may  perhaps  be  objected  to  this  theory  of 
the  mechanical  effect  of  darkness,  that  the  ill  effects  of  dark- 
ness or  blackness  seem  rather  mental  than  corporeal ;  and  I 
own  it  is  true,  that  they  do  so  ;  and  so  do  all  those  that  de- 
pend on  the  affections  of  the  finer  parts  of  our  system.  The 
ill  effects  of  bad  weather  appear  often  no  otherwise,  than 
in  a  melancholy  and  dejection  of  spirits  j  though  without 
doubt,  in  this  case,  the  bodily  organs  suffer  first,  and  the 
mind  through  these  organs. 

SECT.  XVII. 

THE   EFFECTS    OF    BLACKNESS. 

BLACKNESS  is  but  a  partial  darkness  ;  and  therefore  it 
derives  some  of  its  powers  from  being  mixed  and  surround- 
ed with  coloured  bodies.  In  its  own  nature,  it  cannot  be 
considered  as  a  colour.  Black  bodies,  reflecting  none,  or 
but  a  few  rays,  with  regard  to  sight,  are  but  as  so  many  va- 
cant spaces  dispersed  among  the  objects  we  view.  When 
the  eye  lights  on  one  of  these  vacuities,  after  having  been 
kept  in  some  degree  of  tension  by  the  play  of  the  adjacent 
colours  upon  it,  it  suddenly  falls  into  a  relaxation ;  out  of 
which  it  as  suddenly  recovers  by  a  convulsive  spring.  To 
illustrate  this  ;  let  us  consider,  that  when  we  intend  to  sit  on 
a  chair,  and  find  it  much  lower  than  we  expected,  the  shock 
is  very  violent ;  much  more  violent  than  could  be  thought 
from  so  slight  a  fall  as  the  difference  between  one  chair  and 
another  can  possibly  make.  If,  after  descending  a  flight 
of  stairs,  we  attempt  inadvertently  to  take  another  step  in 
in  the  manner  of  the  former  ones,  the  shock  is  extremely 
rude  and  disagreeable  ;  and  by  no  art  can  we  cause  such  a 
shock  by  the  same  means  when  we  expect  and  prepare  for 
it.  When  I  say  that  this  is  owing  to  having  the  change  made 
contrary  to  expectation ;  I  do  not  mean  solely,  when  the 
mind  expects.     I  mean  likewise,  that  when  an  organ  of  sense 


,AND  BEAUTIFUL.  18^ 

is  for  some  time  affected  in  some  one  manner,  if  it  be 
suddenly  affected  otherwise,  there  ensues  a  convulsive  mo- 
tion ;  such  a  convulsion  as  is  caused  when  any  thing  happens 
against  the  expectance  of  the  mind.  And  though  it  may 
appear  strange  that  such  a  change  as  produces  a  relaxation, 
should  immediately  produce  a  sudden  convulsion  5  it  is  yet 
most  certainly  so,  and  so  in  all  the  senses.  Every  one  knows 
that  sleep  is  a  relaxation  ;  and  that  silence,  where  nothing 
keeps  the  organs  of  hearing  in  action,  is  in  general  fittest  to 
bring  on  this  relaxation  ;  yet  when  a  sort  of  murmuring 
sounds  dispose  a  man  to  sleep,  let  these  sounds  cease  sudden^ 
ly,  and  the  person  immediately  awakes  ■,  that  is,  the  parts 
are  braced  up  suddenly,  and  he  awakes.  This  I  have  often 
experienced  myself,  and  I  have  heard  the  same  from  ob- 
serving persons.  In  like  manner,  if  a  person  in  broad  day 
light  were  falling  asleep,  to  introduce  a  sudden  darkness 
would  prevent  his  sleep  for  that  time,  though  silence  and 
darkness  in  themselves,  and  not  suddenly  introduced,  are 
very  favourable  to  it.  This  I  knew  only  by  conjecture  on 
the  analogy  of  the  senses  when  I  first  digested  these  observa- 
tions ;  but  I  have  since  experienced  It.  And  I  have  often 
experienced,  and  so  have  a  thousand  others,  that  on  the  first 
inclining  toward  sleep,  we  have  been  suddenly  awakened 
with  a  most  violent  start ;  and  that  this  start  was  generally 
preceded  by  a  sort  of  dream  of  our  falling  down  a  precipice : 
whence  does  this  strange  motion  arise,  but  from  the  too  sud- 
den relaxation  of  the  body,  which  by  some  mechanism  in 
nature  restores  itself  by  as  quick  and  vigorous  an  exertion 
of  the  contracting  power  of  the  muscles  !  The  dream  itself 
is  caused  by  this  relaxation  :  and  It  js  of  too  uniform  a  na- 
ture to  be  attributed  to  any  other  cause.  The  parts  relax 
too  suddenly,  which  is  in  the  nature  of  falling ;  and  this  ac- 
cident of  the  body  induces  this  image  In  the  mind.  When 
we  are  in  a  confirmed  state  of  health  and  vigour,  as  all  chang- 
es  are  then  less  sudden,  and  less  on  the  extreme,  we  can  sel- 
dom complain  of  this  disagreeable  sensation. 


Vol.  I.  B  B 


186  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

SECT.  XVIII. 

THE    EFFECTS    OF    BLACKNESS    MODERATED. 

THOUGH  the  effects  of  black  be  painful  originally,  we 
must  not  think  they  always  continue  so.  Custom  reconciles 
us  to  every  thing.  After  we  have  been  used  to  the  sight  of 
black  objects,  the  terrour  abates,  and  the  smoothness  and 
glossiness  or  some  agreeable  accident  of  bodies  so  coloured, 
softens  in  some  measure  the  horrour  and  sternness  of  their 
original  nature  *,  yet  the  nature  of  their  original  impression 
still  continues.  Black  will  always  have  something  melancholy 
in  it,  because  the  sensory  will  always  find  the  change  to  it  from 
other  colours  too  violent  j  or  if  it  occupy  the  whole  compass 
of  the  sight,  it  will  then  be  darkness  ;  and  what  was  said  of 
darkness  will  be  applicable  here.  I  do  not  purpose  to  go  in- 
to all  that  might  be  said  to  illustrate  this  theory  of  the  effects 
of  light  and  darkness  ;  neither  will  I  examine  all  the  differ- 
ent effects  produced  by  the  various  modifications  and  mix- 
tures of  these  two  causes.  If  the  foregoing  observations 
have  any  foundation  in  nature,  I  conceive  them  very  suffici- 
ent to  account  for  all  the  phsenomena  that  can  arise  from  all 
the  combinations  of  black  with  other  colours.  To  enter 
into  every  particular,  or  to  answer  every  objection,  would  be 
an  endless  labour.  We  have  only  followed  the  most  leading 
roads  ;  and  we  shall  observe  the  same  conduct  in  our  inquiry 
into  the  cause  of  beauty. 

SECT.  XIX. 

THE    PHYSICAL    CAUSE    OF    LOVE. 

WHEN  we  have  before  us  such  objects  as  excite  love  and 
complacency  ;  the  body  is  affected,  so  far  as  I  could  observe, 
much  in  the  following  manner  :  the  head  reclines  something 
on  one  side  ;  the  eye-lids  are  more  closed  than  usual,  and 
the  eyes  roll  gently  with  an  inclination  to  the  object ;  the 
mouth  is  a  little  opened,  and  the  breath  drawn  slowly,  with 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  187 

now  and  then  a  low  sigh  ;  the  whole  body  is  composed,  and 
the  hands  fall  idly  to  the  sides.  All  this  is  accompanied 
with  an  inward  sense  of  melting  and  languor.  These  ap- 
pearances are  always  proportioned  to  the  degree  of  beauty 
in  the  object,  and  of  sensibility  in  the  observer.  And  this 
gradation  from  the  highest  pitch  of  beauty  and  sensibility, 
even  to  the  lowest  of  mediocrity  and  indifference,  and  their 
correspondent  effects,  ought  to  be  kept  in  view,  else  this  de- 
scription will  seem  exaggerated,  which  it  certainly  is  not. 
But  from  this  description  it  is  almost  impossible  not  to  con- 
clude, that  beauty  acts  by  relaxing  the  solids  of  the  whole 
system.  There  are  all  the  appearances  of  such  a  relaxation  ; 
and  a  relaxation  somewhat  below  the  natural  tone  seems  to 
me  to  be  the  cause  of  all  positive  pleasure.  Who  is  a  stran- 
ger to  that  manner  of  expression  so  common  in  all  times  and 
in  all  countries,  of  being  softened,  relaxed,  enervated,  dis- 
solved, melted  away  by  pleasure  .''  The  universal  voice  of 
mankind,  faithful  to  their  feelings,  concurs  in  affirming  this 
uniform  and  general  effect :  and  although  some  odd  and 
particular  instance  may  perhaps  be  found,  wherein  there  ap- 
pears a  considerable  degree  of  positive  pleasure,  without  all 
the  characters  of  relaxation,  we  must  not  therefore  reject  the 
conclusion  w^e  had  drav?n  from  a  concurrence  of  many  ex- 
periments ;  but  we  must  still  retain  it,  subjoining  the  excep- 
tions which  may  occur  according  to  the  judicious  rule  laid 
down  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton  in  the  third  book  of  his  Opticks. 
Our  position  will,  I  conceive,  appear  confirmed  beyond  any 
reasonable  doubt,  if  we  can  shew  that  such  things  as  we  have 
already  observed  to  be  the  genuine  constituents  of  beauty, 
have  each  of  them,  separately  taken,  a  natural  tendency  to 
relax  the  fibres.  And  if  it  must  be  allowed  us,  that  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  human  body,  when  all  these  constituents  are 
united  together  before  the  sensory,  further  favours  this  opin- 
ion, we  may  venture,  I  believe,  to  conclude,  that  the  passion 
called,  love  is  produced  by  this  relaxation.  By  the  same 
method  of  reasoning  which  we  have  used  in  the  inquiry  into 
the  causes  of  the  sublime,  we  may  likewise  conclude,  that  as 
a  beautiful  object  presented  to  the  sense,  by  causing  a  relax- 
ation in  the  body,  produces  the  passion  of  love  in  the  mind  } 


188  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

SO  if  by  any  means  the  passion  should  first  have  its  origin  in 
the  mind,  a  relaxation  of  the  outward  organs  will  as  certainly 
ensue  in  a  degree  proportioned  to  the  cause. 

SECT.  XX. 

WHY    SMOOTHNESS    IS   BEAUTIFUL. 

IT  is  to  explain  the  true  cause  of  visual  beauty,  that  I 
call  in  the  assistance  of  the  other  senses.  If  it  appears  that 
smoothiess  is  a  principal  cause  of  pleasure  to  the  touch,  taste, 
smell,  and  hearing,  it  will  be  easily  admitted  a  constituent  of 
visual  beauty  ;  especially  as  we  have  before  shewn,  that  this 
quality  is  found  almost  without  exception  in  all  bodies  that 
are  by  general  consent  held  beautiful.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  bodies  which  are  rough  and  angular,  rouse  and 
vellicate  the  organs  of  feeling,  causing  a  sense  of  pain,  which 
consists  in  the  violent  tension  or  contraction  of  the  muscular 
fibres.  On  the  contrary,  the  application  of  smooth  bodies 
relaxes ;  gentle  stroking  with  a  smooth  hand,  allays  violent 
pains  and  cramps,  and  relaxes  the  suffering  parts  from  their 
unnatural  tension  ;  and  it  has  therefore  very  often  no  mean 
effect  in  removing  swellings  and  obstructions.  The  sense  of 
feeling  is  highly  gratified  with  smooth  bodies.  A  bed 
smoothly  laid,  and  soft,  that  is,  where  the  resistance  is  every 
way  inconsiderable,  is  a  great  luxury,  disposing  to  an  univer- 
sal relaxation,  and  inducing  beyond  any  thing  else,  that  spe.? 
f  ies  of  it  called  sleep. 

SECT.  XXI. 

SWEETNESS,    ITS    NATURE. 

NOR  Is  it  only  in  the  touch,  that  smooth  bodies  cause  pos- 
itive pleasure  by  relaxation.  In  the  smell  and  taste,  we  find 
sll  things  agreeable  to  them,  and  which  are  commonly  called 
sweet,  to  be  of  a  smooth  nature,  and  that  they  all  evidently 
tend  to  relax  their  respective  sensories.  Let  us  first  consid- 
er the  taste.     Since  it  is  most  easy  to  inquire  into  the  prop- 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  189 

erty  of  liquids,  and  since  all  things  seem  to  want  a  fluid  ve- 
hicle to  make  them  tasted  at  all,  I  intend  rather  to  consider 
the  liquid  than  the  solid  parts  of  our  food.  The  vehicles  of 
all  tastes  are  water  and  oil.  And  what  determines  the  taste 
is  some  salt,  which  affects  variously  according  to  its  nature,  or 
its  manner  of  being  combined  with  other  things.  Water 
and  oil,  simply  considered,  are  capable  of  giving  some  pleas- 
ure to  the  taste.  Water,  when  simple,  is  insipid,  inodorous, 
colourless,  and  smooth ;  it  is  found,  when  mt  cold,  to  be  a 
great  resolver  of  spasms,  and  lubricator  of  the  fibres  ;  this 
power  it  probably  owes  to  its  smoothness.  For  as  its  fluidity 
depends,  according  to  the  most  general  opinion,  on  the 
roundness,  smoothness,  and  weak  cohesion  of  the  component 
parts  of  any  body ;  and  as  water  acts  merely  as  a  simple  flu- 
id j  it  follows,  that  the  cause  of  its  fluidity  is  likewise  the 
cause  of  its  relaxing  quality  ;  namely,  the  snaoothness  and 
slippery  texture  of  its  parts.  The  other  fluid  vehicle  of 
tastes  is  oil.  This  too,  when  simple,  is  insipid,  inodorous, 
colourless,  and  smooth  to  the  touch  and  taste.  It  is  smooth- 
er than  water,  and  in  many  cases  yet  more  relaxing.  Oil  is 
in  some  degree  pleasant  to  the  eye,  the  touch,  and  the  taste, 
insipid  as  it  is.  Water  is  not  so  grateful ;  which  I  do  not 
know  on  what  principle  to  account  for,  other  than  that  wa- 
ter is  not  so  soft  and  smooth.  Suppose  that  to  this  oil  or 
water  were  added  a  certain  quantity  of  a  specifick  salt,  which 
had  a  power  of  putting  the  nervous  papillae  of  the  tongue 
into  a  gentle  vibratory  motion  j  as  suppose  sugar  dissolved 
in  it.  The  smoothness  of  the  oil,  and  the  vibratory  power 
of  the  salt,  cause  the  sense  we  call  sweetness.  In  all  sweet 
bodies,  sugar,  or  a  substance  very  little  different  from  sugar, 
IS  constantly  found  ;  every  species  of  salt,  examined  by  the 
inicroscope,  has  its  own  distinct,  regular,  invariable  form. 
That  of  nitre  is  a  pointed  oblong  ;  that  of  sea-salt  an  exact 
cube  ;  that  of  sugar  a  perfect  globe.  If  you  have  tried  how 
smooth  globular  bodies,  as  the  marbles  with  which  boys  amuse 
themselves,  have  affected  the  touch  when  they  are  rolled 
backward  and  forward  and  over  one  another,  you  will  easily 
conceive  how  sweetness,  which  consists  in  a  salt  of  such  na- 
ture, affects  the  taste  j  for  a  single  globe,  (though  somewhat 


190  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

pleasant  to  the  feeling)  yet  by  the  regularity  of  its  form,  and 
the  somewhat  too  sudden  deviation  of  its  parts  frdm  a  right 
line,  is  nothing  near  so  pleasant  to  the  touch  as  several 
globes,  where  the  hand  gently  rises  to  one  and  falls  to  anoth- 
er 'y  and  this  pleasure  is  greatly  increased  if  the  globes  are 
in  motion,  and  sliding  over  one  another  ;  for  this  soft  vari- 
ety prevents  that  weariness,  which  the  uniform  disposition 
of  the  several  globes  would  otherwise  produce.  Thus  in 
sweet  liquors,  the  parts  of  the  fluid  vehicle,  though  most 
probably  round,  are  y6t  so  minute,  as  to  conceal  the  figure 
of  their  component  parts  from  the  nicest  inquisition  of  the 
microscope  ;  and  consequently  being  so  excessively  minute, 
they  have  a  sort  of  flat  simplicity  to  the  taste,  resembling 
the  effects  of  plain  smooth  bodies  to  the  touch  •,  for  if  a  body 
be  composed  of  round  parts  excessively  small,  and  packed 
pretty  closely  together,  the  surface  will  be  both  to  the  sight 
and  touch  as  if  it  were  nearly  plain  and  smooth.  It  is  clear 
from  their  unveiling  their  figure  to  the  microscope,  that  the 
particles  of  sugar  are  considerably  larger  than  those  of  water 
or  oil,  and  consequently,  that  their  effects  from  their  round- 
ness will  be  more  distinct  and  palpable  to  the  nervous  papillse 
of  that  nice  organ  the  tongue  :  they  will  induce  that  sense 
called  sweetness,  which  in  a  weak  manner  we  discover  in 
oil,  and  in  a  yet  weaker  in  water  ;  for,  insipid  as  they  are, 
water  and  oil  are  in  some  degree  sweet  ;  and  it  may  be  ob- 
served, that  insipid  things  of  all  kinds  approach  more  nearly 
to  the  nature  of  sweetness  than  to  that  of  any  other  taste. 

SECT.  XXII. 

SWEETNESS    RELAXING. 

IN  the  other  senses  we  have  remarked,  that  smooth  things 
are  relaxing.  Now  it  ought  to  appear  that  sweet  things, 
which  are  the  smooth  of  taste,  are  relaxing  too.  It  is  re- 
markable, that  in  some  languages  soft  and  sweet  have  but 
one  name.  Doux  in  French  signifies  soft  as  well  as  sweet. 
The  Latin  Dulcisy  and  the  ItaUan  Dolce,  have  in  many  cases 
the  same  double  signification.  That  sweet  things  are  gener- 
ally relaxing,  is  evident  j  because  all  such,  especially  those 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  191 

which  are  most  oily,  taken  frequently,  or  in  a  large  quantity, 
very  much  enfeeble  the  tone  of  the  stomach.     Sweet  smells, 
which  bear  a  great  affinity  to  sweet  tastes,  relax  very  remark- 
ably.    The  smell  of  flowers  disposes  people  to  drowsiness  ; 
and  this  relaxing  effect  is  further  apparent  from   the  preju- 
dice which  people  of  weak   nerves  receive   from   their  use. 
It  were  worth  while  to  examine,  whether  tastes  of  this  kind, 
sweet  ones,  tastes   that    are   caused  by  smooth  oils  and  a  re- 
laxing salt,  are  not  the  originally  pleasant  tastes.     For  many, 
which  use  has  rendered  such,  were  not    at    all  agreeable    at 
first.     The  way  to  examine  this  is,  to  try   what  nature  has 
originally  provided  for  us,  which  she  has  undoubtedly  made 
originally  pleasant  ;  and  to  analyse  this  provision.     Alilk  is 
the  first  support  of  our  childhood.     The  component  parts  of 
this  are  water,  oil,  and  a  sort  of  a  very  sweet  salt,  called  the 
sugar  of  milk.     All  these  when  blended  have  a  great  smooth- 
ness to  the  taste,  and  a  relaxing  quality   to   the  skin.     The 
next  thing  children  covet  is  fruity  and  of  fruits  those    prin- 
cipally which  are  sweet  ;  and    every  one    knows   that   the 
sweetness  of  fruit  is  caused  by  a  subtile  oil,  and   such  salt  as 
that  mentioned    in    the    last  section.     Afterwards,  custom, 
habit,  the  desire  of  novelty,  and  a  thousand  other  causes, 
confound,  adulterate,  and  change  our  palates,  so  that  we  can 
no  longer  reason  with  any   satisfaction  about   them.     Before 
we  quit  this  article,  we  must  observe,  that  as  smooth  things 
are,  as  such,  agreeable  to  the  taste,  and  are  found  of  a  relax- 
ing quality  -,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  things  which  are  found 
by  experience  to  be  of  a  strengthening  quality,  and   fit   to 
brace  the  fibres,  are  almost  universally  rough    and  pungent 
to  the  taste,  and  in  many  cases  rough  even  to  the  touch.    We 
often  apply  the  quality  of  sweetness,  metaphorically,  to  visual 
objects.     For  the  better  carrying  on  this  remarkable  analogy 
of  the  senses,  we  may  here  call  sweetness  the  beautiful  of  the 
taste. 

SECT.  XXIII. 

VARIATION,    WHY    BEAUTIFUL. 

ANOTHER  principal  property  of  beautiful  objects  is,  that 
the  line  of  their  parts  is  continually  varying  i"3  direction  ; 


192  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

but  it  varies  it  by  a  very  insensible  deviation  ;  it  never  va- 
ries it  so  quickly  as  to  surprise,  or  by  the  sharpness  of  its  an- 
gle to  cause  any  twiching  or  convulsion  of  the  optick  nerve. 
Nothing  long  continued  in  the  same  manner,  nothing  very 
suddenly  varied,  can  be  beautiful ;  because  both  are  opposite 
to  that  agreeable  relaxation  which  is  the  characteristick  effect 
of  beauty.  It  is  thus  in  all  the  senses.  A  motion  in  a  right 
line,  is  that  manner  of  moving  next  to  a  very  gentle  descent, 
in  Avhich  we  meet  the  least  resistance  ;  yet  it  is  not  that  man- 
ner of  moving,  whicfi,  next  to  a  descent,  wearies  us  the 
least.  Rest  certainly  tends  to  relax  :  yet  there  is  a  species 
of  motion  which  relaxes  more  than  rest  j  a  gentle  oscillatory 
motion,  a  rising  and  falling.  Rocking  sets  children  to  sleep 
better  than  absolute  rest  j  there  is  indeed  scarce  any  thing  at 
that  age,  which  gives  more  pleasure  than  to  be  gently  lifted 
up  and  down  ;  the  manner  of  playing  which  their  nurses 
use  with  children,  and  the  weighing  and  swinging  used  af- 
terwards by  themselves  as  a  favourite  amusement,  evince 
this  very  sufficiently.  Most  people,  must  have  observed  the 
sort  of  sense  they  have  had  on  being  swiftly  drawn  in  an 
easy  coach  on  a  smooth  turf,  with  gradual  ascents  and  decli- 
vities. This  will  give  a  better  idea  of  the  beautiful,  and 
point  out  its  probable  cause  better,  than  almost  any  thing 
else.  On  the  contrary  when  one  is  hurried  over  a  rough, 
rocky,  broken  road,  the  pain  felt  by  these  sudden  inequali- 
ties shews  why  similar  sights,  feelings,  and  sounds,  are  so 
contrary  to  beauty  :  and  with  regard  to  the  feeling,  it  is  ex- 
actly the  same  in  its  effect,  or  very  nearly  the  same,  whether, 
for  instance,  I  move  my  hand  along  the  surface  of  a  body  of 
a  certain  shape,  or  whether  such  a  body  is  moved  along  my 
hand.  But  to  bring  this  analogy  of  the  senses  home  to  the 
eye  :  if  a  body  presented  to  that  sense  has  such  a  waving  sur- 
face, that  the  rays  of  light  reflected  from  it  are  in  a  continu- 
al insensible  deviation  from  the  strongest  to  the  weakest 
(which  is  always  the  case  in  a  surface  gradually  unequal),  it 
must  be  exactly  similar  in  its  effects  on  the  eye  and  touch ; 
upon  the  one  of  which  it  operates  directly,  on  the  other  in- 
directly. And  this  body  will  be  beautiful  if  the  lines  which 
compose  its  surface  are  not  continued,  even  so  varied,  in  a 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I93 

manner  that  may  weary  or  dissipate  the  attention.     The  va- 
riation itself  must  be  continually  varied. 

SECT.  XXIV. 

CONCERNING    SMALLNESS. 

TO  avoid  a  sameness  which  may  arise  from  the  too  fre- 
quent repetition  of  the  same  reasonings,  and  of  illustrations 
of  the  same  nature,  I  will  not  enter  very  minutely  into  every 
particular  that  regards  beauty,  as  it  is  founded  on  the  disposi- 
tion of  its  quantity,  or  its  quantity  itself.  In  speaking  of 
the  magnitude  of  bodies  there  is  great  uncertainty,  because 
the  ideas  of  great  and  small  are  terms  almost  entirely  relative 
to  the  species  of  the  objects,  which  are  infinite.  It  is  true, 
that  having  once  fixed  the  species  of  any  object,  and  the  di- 
mensions common  in  the  individuals  of  that  species,  we  may 
observe  some  that  exceed,  and  some  that  fall  short  of,  the  or- 
dinary standard  :  those  which  greatly  exceed,  are  by  that  ex- 
cess, provided  the  species  itself  be  not  very  small,  rather 
great  and  terrible  than  beautiful ;  but  as  in  the  animal  world, 
and  in  a  good  measure  in  the  vegetable  world  likewise,  the 
qualities  that  constitute  beauty  may  possibly  be  united  to 
things  of  greater  dimensions  ;  when  they  are  so  united,  they 
constitute  a  species  something  different  both  from  the  sub- 
lime and  beautiful,  which  I  have  before  cMed  Jin e ,-  but  this 
kind,  I  imagine,  has  not  such  a  power  on  the  passions,  either 
as  vast  bodies  have  which  are  endued  with  the  correspondent 
qualities  of  the  sublime ;  or  as  the  qualities  of  beauty  have 
when  united  in  a  small  object.  The  affection  produced  by 
large  bodies  adorned  with  the  spoils  of  beauty,  is  a  tension 
continually  relieved  ;  which  approaches  to  the  nature  of  me- 
diocrity. But  if  I  were  to  say  how  I  find  myself  affected 
upon  such  occasions,  I  should  say,  that  the  sublime  suffers 
less  by  being  united  to  some  of  the  qualities  of  beauty,  than 
beauty  does  by  being  joined  to  greatness  of  quantity,  or  any 
other  properties  of  the  sublime.  There  is  something  so  over- 
ruling in  whatever  inspires  us  with  awe,  in  all  things  which, 
belong  ever  so  remotely  to  terrour,   that  nothing  else   can 

Vol.  I.  C  c 


19-4  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

Stand  in  their  presence.  There  lie  the  qualities  of  beauty 
either  dead  or  unoperative  j  or  at  most  exerted  to  mollify 
the  rigom*  and  sternness  of  the  terrour,  which  is  the  natural 
concomitant  of  greatness.  Besides  the  extraordinary  great 
in  every  species,  the  opposite  to  this,  thedwarfish  and  dimin- 
utive ought  to  be  considered.  Littleness,  merely  as  such, 
has  nothing  contrary  to  the  idea  of  beauty.  The  humming- 
bird, both  in  shape  and  colouring,  yields  to  none  of  the 
winged  species,  of  which  he  is  the  least ;  and  perhaps  his 
beauty  is  enhanced  by  his  smallness.  But  there  are  animals, 
which  when  they  are  extremely  small  are  rarely  (if  ever) 
beautiful.  There  is  a  dwarfish  size  of  men  and  women, 
which  is  almost  constantly  so  gross  and  massive  in  compari- 
son of  their  height,  that  they  present  us  with  a  very  disagree- 
able image.  But  should  a  man  be  found  not  above  two  or 
three  feet  high,  supposing  such  a  person  to  have  all  the  parts 
of  his  body  of  a  delicacy  suitable  to  such  a  size,  and  other- 
wise endued  with  the  common  qualities  of  other  beautiful 
bodies,  I  am  pretty  well  convinced  that  a  person  of  such  a 
stature  might  be  considered  as  beautiful ;  might  be  the  ob- 
ject of  love  ;  might  give  us  very  pleasing  ideas  on  viewing 
him.  The  only  thing  which  could  possibly  interpose  to  check 
our  pleasure  is,  that  such  creatures,  however  formed,  are  un- 
usual, and  are  often  therefore  considered  as  something  mon- 
strous. The  large  and  gigantick,  though  very  compatible 
with  the  sublime,  is  contrary  to  the  beautiful.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  suppose  a  giant  the  object  of  love.  When  we  let  our 
imagination  loose  in  romance,  the  ideas  we  naturally  annex 
to  that  size  are  those  of  tyranny,  cruelty,  injustice,  and  every 
thing  horrid  and  abominable.  We  paint  the  giant  ravaging 
the  country,  plundering  the  innocent  traveller,  and  after- 
wards gorged  with  his  half-living  flesh  :  such  are  Polyphe- 
mus, Cacus,  and  others,  who  make  so  great  a  figure  in  ro- 
mances and  heroick  poems.  The  event  we  attend  to  with 
the  greatest  satisfaction  is  their  defeat  and  death.  I  do  not 
remember,  in  all  that  multitude  of  deaths  with  which  the 
Iliad  is  filled,  that  the  fall  of  any  man  remarkable  for  his 
great  stature  and  strength  touches  us  with  pity  ;  nor  does  it 
appear  that  the  author  so  well  read  in  human  nature,  ever 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I95 

Intendedit  should.     It  is  Simoisius,  in  the  soft  bloom  of  youth, 
torn  from  his  parents,  who  tremble  for  a  courage  so  ill  suited 
to  liis  strength  ;  it  is  another  hurried  by  war  from  the  new 
embraces  of  his  bride,  young,  and  fair,  and  a  novice  to  the 
field,  who  melts  us  by  his  untimely  fate.     Achilles,  in  spite 
of  the  many  qualities  of  beauty,  which  Homer  has  bestow- 
ed  on  his  outward   form,   and  the  many  great  virtues  Avith 
which  he  has  adorned  his  mind,  can  never  make  us  love  him. 
It  may  be  observed,  that  Homer    has  given  the   Trojans, 
whose  fate  he  has  designed  to  excite  our  compassion,   infin- 
itely more  of  the  amiable  social  virtues  than  he  has  distrib- 
uted  among  his  Greeks.     With  regard  to  the  Trojans,  the 
passion  he  chooses  to  raise  is  pity  j  pity  is  a  passion  founded 
on  love  j  and  these  lesser^  and   if  I   may  say  domestick  vir- 
tues, are  certainly  the  most  amiable.     But  he  has  made   the 
Greeks  far  their  snperiours   in   politick  and  military  virtues. 
The  councils  of  Priam  are  weak  ;  the  arms  of  Hector  com- 
paratively feeble  ;  his  courage  far   below  that    of  Achilles. 
Yet  we  love  Priam  more  than  Agamemnon,   and  Hector 
more  than  his  conqueror  Achilles.     Admiration  is  the   pas- 
sion which  Homer  would  excite  in  favour  of  the   Greeks, 
and  he  has  done  it  by  bestowing  on  them  the  virtues  which 
have  but  little  to  do  with  love.     This  short  digression  is  per- 
haps not  wholly  beside  our  purpose,  where  our  business  is  to 
shew,  that  objects  of  great  dimensions  are  incompatible  with 
beauty,  the  more  incompatible  as  they  are  greater ;  whereas 
the  small,  if  ever  they  fail  of  beauty,  this  failure  is  not   to 
be  attributed  to  their  size. 

SECT.  XXV. 

OF  COLOUR. 

WITH  regard  to  colour,  the  disquisition  is  almost  infinite; 
but  I  conceive  the  principles  laid  down  in  the  beginning  of 
this  part  are  sufficient  to  account  for  the  effects  of  them  all, 
as  well  as  for  the  agreeable  effects  of  transparent  bodies, 
whether  fluid  or  solid.  Suppose  I  look  at  a  bottle  of  mud- 
dy liquor,  of  a  blue  or  red  colour  :  the  blue  or  red  rays  can- 


196  ON  THE  SUBLIME,  &c. 

not  pass  clearly  to  the  eye,  but  are  suddenly  and  unequally 
stopped  by  the  intervention  of  little  opaque  bodies,  whicji 
without  preparation  change  the  idea,  and  change  it  too  into 
one  disagreeable  in  its  own  nature,  conformable  to  the  prin- 
ciples laid  down  in  sect.  24.  But  when  the  ray  passes  with- 
out such  opposition  through  the  glass  or  liquor,  when  the 
glass  or  liquor  are  quite  transparent,  the  light  is  sometimes 
softened  in  the  passage,  which  makes  it  more  agreeable  even 
as  light  y  and  the  liquor  reflecting  all  the  rays  of  its  proper 
colour  evenly^  it  has  such  an  effect  on  the  eye,  as  smooth 
opaque  bodies  have  on  the  eye  and  touch.  So  that  the  pleas- 
ure here  is  compounded  of  the  softness  of  the  transmitted 
and  the  evenness  of  the  reflected  light.  This  pleasure  may  be 
heightened  by  the  common  principles  in  other  things,  if  the 
shape  of  the  glass  which  holds  the  transparent  liquor  be  so 
judiciously  varied,  as  to  present  the  colour  gradually  and  in- 
terchangeably, weakened  and  strengthened  with  all  the  va- 
riety which  judgment  in  affairs  of  this  nature  shall  suggest. 
On  a  review  of  all  that  has  been  said  of  the  efi^ects,  as  well 
as  the  causes  of  both,  it  will  appear,  that  the  sublime  and 
beautiful  are  built  on  principles  very  different,  and  that  their 
affections  are  as  different :  the  great  has  terrour  for  its  basis ; 
which,  when  it  is  modified,  causes  that  emotion  in  the  mind, 
which  I  have  called  astonishment ;  the  beautiful  is  founded 
on  mere  positive  pleasure,  and  excites  in  the  soul  that  feel- 
ing, which  is  called  love.  Their  causes  have  made  the  sub- 
ject of  this  fourth  part. 


THE   END   OF   THE    FOURTH    PART. 


PHILOSOPHICAL  INQUIRY 


INTO    THE 


ORIGIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS 


OF    THE 


SUBLIME  AND  BEAUTIFUL. 


PART       V. 


SECTION  I. 


OF  WORDS. 


N. 


ATURAL  objects  affect  us,  by  the  laws 
of  that  connexion  which  Providence  has  established  between 
certain  motions  and  configurations  of  bodies,  and  certain  con- 
sequent feelings  in  our  mind.  Painting  affects  in  the  same 
manner,  but  with  the  superadded  pleasure  of  imitation. 
Architecture  affects  by  the  laws  of  nature,  and  the  law  of 
reason  ;  from  which  latter  result  the  rules  of  proportion, 
which  make  a  work  to  be  praised  or  censured,  in  the  whole 
or  in  some  part,  when  the  end  for  which  it  was  designed  is 
or  is  not  properly  answered.  But  as  to  words  ;  they  seem 
to  me  to  affect  us  in  a  manner  very  different  from  that  in 
which  we  are  affected  by  natural  objects,  or  by  painting  or 
architecture ;  yet  words  have  as  considerable  a  share  in  ex- 
citing ideas  of  beauty  and  of  the  sublime  as  any  of  those, 


198  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

and  sometimes  a  much  greater  than  any  of  them  j  therefore 
an  inquiry  into  the  manner  by  which  they  excite  such  emo- 
tions is  far  from  being  unnecessary  in  a  discourse  of  this  kind. 

SECT.  II. 

THE    COMMON    EFFECT    OF    POETRY,    NOT    BY    RAISING  IDEAS 

OF    THINGS. 

THE  common  notion  of  the  power  of  poetry  and  elo- 
quence, as  well  as  that  of  words  in  ordinary  conversation,  is, 
that  they  affect  the  mind  by  raising  in  it  ideas  of  those  things 
for  which  custom  has  appointed  them  to  stand.  To  examine 
the  truth  of  this  notion,  it  may  be  requisite  to  observe  that 
words  may  be  divided  into  three  sorts.  The  first  are  such 
as  represent  many  simple  ideas  united  by  nature  to  form  some 
one  determinate  composition,  as  man,  horse,  tree,  castle,  &c. 
These  I  call  aggregate  words.  The  second,  are  they  that 
stand  for  one  simple  idea  of  such  compositions,  and  no  more; 
as  red,  blue,  round,  square,  and  the  like.  These  I  call  simple 
abstract  words.  The  third,  are  those,  which  are  formed  by 
an  union,  an  arbitrary  union  of  both  the  others,  and  of  the 
various  relations  between  them  in  greater  or  lesser  degrees 
of  complexity;  as  virtue,  honour,  persuasion,  magistrate, 
and  the  like.  These  I  call  cotnpound  abstract  words.  Words, 
I  am  sensible,  are  capable  of  being  classed  into  more  curious 
distinctions ;  but  these  seem  to  be  natural,  and  enough  for 
our  purpose ;  and  they  are  disposed  in  that  order  in  which 
they  are  commonly  taught,  and  in  which  the  mind  gets  the 
ideas  they  are  substituted  for.  I  shall  begin  with  the  third 
sort  of  words  ;  compound  abstracts,  such  as  virtue,  honour, 
persuasion,  docility.  Of  these  I  am  convinced,  that  what- 
ever power  they  may  have  on  the  passions,  they  do  not  de- 
rive it  from  any  representation  raised  in  the  mind  of  the 
things  for  which  they  stand.  As  compositions,  they  are  not 
real  essences,  and  hardly  cause,  I  think,  any  real  ideas.  No- 
body, I  believe,  immediately  on  hearing  the  sounds,  virtue, 
liberty,  or  honour,  conceives  any  precise  notions  of  the  par- 
ticular modes  of  action  and  thinking,  together  with  the  mixt 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  I99 

and  simple  Ideas,  and  the  several  relations  of  them  for  which 
these  words  are  substituted ;  neither  has  he  any  general  idea, 
compounded  of  them  ;  for  if  he  had,  then  some  of  those  par- 
ticular ones,  though  indistinct  perhaps,  and  confused,  might 
come  soon  to  be  perceived.  But  this,  I  take  it,  is  hardly 
ever  the  case.  For,  put  yourself  upon  analysing  one  of 
these  words,  and  you  must  reduce  it  from  one  set  of  general 
words  to  another,  and  then  into  the  simple  abstracts  and  ag- 
gregates, in  a  much  longer  series  than  may  be  at  first  imagin- 
ed, before  any  real  idea  emerges  to  light,  before  you  come  to 
discover  any  thing  like  the  first  principles  of  such  composi- 
tions ;  and  when  you  have  made  such  a  discovery  of  the 
original  ideas,  the  effect  of  the  composition  is  utterly  lost. 
A  train  of  thinking  of  this  sort,  is  much  too  long  to  be  pur- 
sued in  the  ordinary  ways  of  conversation,  nor  is  it  at  all 
necessary  that  it  should.  Such  words  are  in  reality  but  mere 
sounds ;  but  they  are  sounds  which  being  used  on  particular 
occasions,  wherein  we  receive  some  good,  or  suffer  some 
evil ;  or  see  others  affected  with  good  or  evil ;  or  which  we 
hear  applied  to  other  interesting  things  or  events  •,  and  be- 
ing applied  in  such  a  variety  of  cases,  that  we  know  readily 
by  habit  to  what  things  they  belong,  they  produce  in  the 
mind,  whenever  they  are  afterwards  mentioned,  efi:ects  simi- 
lar to  those  of  their  occasions.  The  sounds  being  often 
used  without  reference  to  any  particular  occasion,  and  carry- 
ing still  their  "first  impressions,  they  at  last  utterly  lose  their 
connexion  with  the  particular  occasions  that  gave  rise  to 
them  ;  yet  the  sound,  without  any  annexed  notion,  continues 
to  operate  as  before. 

SECT.  III. 

GENERAL    WORDS    BEFORE    IDEAS. 

Mr'.  LOCKE  has  somewhere  observed,  with  his  usual  sa- 
gacity, that  most  general  words,  those  belonging  to  virtue 
and  vice,  good  and  evil,  especially,  are  taught  before  the 
particular  modes  of  action  to  which  they  belong  are  present- 
ed to  the  mind  ;  and  with  them,  the  love  of  the  one,  and 


200  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

the  abhorrence  of  the  other  ;  for  the  mhids  of  children  are 
so  ductile,  that  a  niirse,  or  any  person  about  a  child,-  by 
seeming  pleased  or  displeased  with  any  thing,  or  even  any 
word,  may  give  the  disposition  of  the  child  a  similar  turn. 
When  afterwards,  the  several  occurrences  in  life  come  to  be 
applied  to  these  words,  and  that  which  is  pleasant  often  ap- 
pears under  the  name  of  evil  ;  and  what  is  disagreeable  to 
nature  is  called  good  and  virtuous  ;  a  strange  confijsion  of 
ideas  and  affections  arises  in  the  minds  of  many  ;  and  an 
appearance  of  no  small  contradiction  between  their  notions 
and  their  actions.  There  are  many  who  love  virtue  and 
who  detest  vice,  and  this  not  from  hypocrisy  or  affectation, 
who  notwithstanding  very  frequently  act  ill,  and  wickedly 
in  particulars  without  the  least  remorse  ;  because  these  par- 
ticular occasions  never  came  into  view,  when  the  passions  on 
the  side  of  virtue  were  so  warmly  affected  by  certain  words 
heated  originally  by  the  breath  of  others  5  and  for  this  rea- 
son, it  is  hard  to  repeat  certain  sets  of  words,  though  owned 
by  themselves  unoperative,  without  being  in  some  degree  af- 
fected, especially  if  a  warm  and  affecting  tone  of  voice  ac- 
companies them,  as  suppose, 

JVise^  valiant  J  generous  y  good,  and  great. 

These  words,  by  having  no  application,  ought  to  be  unope- 
rative ;  but  when  words  commonly  sacred  to  great  occasions 
are  used,  we  are  affected  by  them  even  without  the  occa- 
sions. When  words  which  have  been  generally  so  applied 
are  put  together  without  any  rational  view,  or  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  they  do  not  rightly  agree  with  each  other,  the  style 
is  called  bombast.  And  it  requires  in  several  cases  much 
good  sense  and  experience  to  be  guarded  against  the  force  of 
such  language ;  for  when  propriety  is  neglected,  a  greater 
number  of  these  affecting  words  may  be  taken  into  the  ser- 
vice, and  a  greater  variety  may  be  indulged  in  combining 
them. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  201 

SECT.  IV. 

THE    EFFECT    OF    WORDS. 

IF  words  have  all  their  possible  extent  of  power,  three  ef- 
fects arise  in  the  mind  of  the  hearer.  The  first  is,  the 
sound ;  the  second,  the  picturcy  or  representation  of  the  thing 
signified  by  the  sound  ;  the  third  is,  the  affection  of  the  soul 
produced  by  one  or  by  both  of  the  foregoing.  Compounded 
abstract  words,  of  which  we  have  been  speaking,  (honour, 
justice,  liberty,  and  the  like)  produce  the  first  and  the  last 
of  these  effects,  but  not  the  second.  Simple  abstracts,  are 
used  to  signify  some  one  simple  idea  without  much  adverting 
to  others  which  may  chance  to  attend  it,  as  blue,  green,  hot, 
cold,  and  the  like  j  these  are  capable  of  afi^ecting  all  three 
of  the  purposes  of  words ;  as  the  aggregate  words,  man,  cas- 
tle, horse,  &c.  are  in  a  yet  higher  degree.  But  I  am  of 
opinion,  that  the  most  general  efi^ect  even  of  these  words, 
does  not  arise  from  their  forming  pictures  of  the  several 
things  they  would  represent  in  the  imagination ;  because,  on 
a  very  diligent  examination  of  my  own  mind,  and  getting 
others  to  consider  theirs,  I  do  not  find  that  once  in  twenty 
times  any  such  picture  is  formed,  and  when  it  is,  there  is 
most  commonly  a  particular  effort  of  the  imagination  for 
that  purpose.  But  the  aggregate  words  operate,  as  I  said  of 
the  compound-abstracts,  not  by  presenting  any  image  to  the 
mind,  but  by  having  from  use  the  same  effect  on  being  men- 
tioned, that  their  original  has  when  it  is  seen.  Suppose  we 
were  to  read  a  passage  to  this  effect :  *'  The  river  Danube 
rises  in  a  moist  and  mountainous  soil  in  the  heart  of  Germa- 
ny, where  winding  to  and  fro,  it  waters  several  principalities, 
until,  turning  into  Austria,  and  laving  the  walls  of  Vienna, 
it  passes  into  Hungary  ;  there  with  a  vast  flood,  augmented 
by  the  Saave  and  the  Drave,  it  quits  Christendom,  and  roll- 
ing through  the  barbarous  countries  which  border  on  Tarta- 
ry,  it  enters  by  many  mouths  in  the  Black  sea."  In  this  de- 
scription many  things  are  mentioned,  as  mountains,  rivers, 
cities,  the  sea,  &c-     But  let  any  body  examine  himself,  and 

Vol.  I.  D  d 


202  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

sec  whether  he  has  had  impressed  on  his  imagination  any 
pictures  of  a  river,  mountain,  watery  soil,  Germany,  &c. 
Indeed  it  is  impossible,  in  the  rapidity  and  quick  succession 
of  words  in  conversation,  to  have  ideas  both  of  the  sound 
of  the  word,  and  of  the  thing  represented  ;  besides,  some 
words,  expressing  real  essences,  are  so  mixed  with  others  of 
a  general  and  nominal  import,  that  it  is  impracticable  to  jump 
from  sense  to  thought,  from  particulars  to  generals,  from 
things  to  words,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  answer  the  purposes 
of  Ufe  i  nor  is  it  necessary  that  we  should. 

SECT.  V. 

EXAMPLES    THAT    WORDS    MAY    AFFECT    WITHOUT    RAISINGi 

IMAGES. 

I  FIND  it  very  hard  to  persuade  several  that  their  pas- 
sions are  affected  by  words  from  whence  they  have  no  ideas ; 
and  yet  harder  to  convince  them,  that  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  conversation  we  are  sufficiently  understood  without  rais- 
ing any  images  of  the  things  concerning  which  we  speak. 
It  seems  to  be  an  odd  subject  of  dispute  with  any  man,  wheth- 
er he  has  ideas  in  his  mind  or  not.  Of  this,  at  first  view, 
every  man  in  his  own  forum,  ought  to  judge  without  appeal. 
But,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  we  are  often  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  ideas  we  have  of  things,  or  whether  we  have  any  ideas 
at  all  upon  some  subjects.  It  even  requires  a  good  deal  of 
attention  to  be  thoroughly  satisfied  on  this  head.  Since  I 
wrote  these  papers,  I  found  two  very  striking  instances  of  the 
possibility  there  is,  that  a  man  may  hear  words  without  hav- 
ing any  idea  of  the  things  which  they  represent,  and  yet 
afterwards  be  capable  of  returning  them  to  others,  combined 
in  a  new  way,  and  with  great  propriety,  energy,  and  instruc- 
tion. The  first  instance  is  that  of  Mr.  Blacklock,  a  poet 
blind  from  his  birth.  Few  men  blessed  with  the  most  per- 
fect sight  can  describe  visual  objects  with  more  spirit  and 
justness  than  this  blind  man  ;  which  cannot  possibly  be  at- 
tributed to  his  having  a  clearer  conception  of  the  things  he 
describes  than  is  common  to  other  persons.     Mr.  Spence,  in 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  20S 

an  elegant  preface  which  he  has  written  to  the  works  of  this 
poet,  reasons  very  ingeniously,  and,  1  imagine,  for  the  most 
part,  very  rightly,  upon  the  cause  of  this  extraordinary  phse- 
nomenon ;  but  I  cannot  altogether  agree  with  him,  that 
some  improprieties  in  language  and  thought,  which  occur  in 
these  poems,  have  arisen  from  the  blind  poet's  imperfect 
conception  of  visual  objects,  since  such  improprieties,  and 
much  greater,  may  be  found  in  writers  even  of  an  higher 
class  than  Mr.  Biacklock,  and  who  notwithstanding  possessed 
the  faculty  of  seeing  in  its  full  perfection.  Here  is  a  poet 
doubtless  as  much  affected  by  his  own  descriptions,  as  any 
that  reads  them  can  be  ;  and  yet  •  he  is  affected  with  this 
strong  enthusiasm  by  things  of  which  he  neither  has,  nor 
can  possibly  have  any  idea  further  than  that  of  a  bare  sound  : 
and  why  m.ay  not  those  who  read  his  works  be  affected  in 
the  same  manner  that  he  was  j  with  as  little  of  any  real 
ideas  of  the  things  described  ?  The  second  instance  is  of 
Mr.  Saunderson,  professor  of  mathematics  in  the  university 
of  Cambridge.  This  learned  man  had  acquired  great  knowl- 
edge in  natural  philosophy,  in  astronomy,  and  whatever  sci- 
ences depend  upon  mathematical  skill.  What  was  the  most 
extraordinary  and  the  most  to  my  purpose,  he  gave  excellent 
lectures  upon  light  and  colours  ;  and  this  man  taught  others 
the  theory  of  those  ideas  which  they  had,  and  which  he 
himself  undoubtedly  had  not.  But  it  is  probable  that  the 
words  red,  blue,  green,  answered  to  him  as  well  as  the  ideas 
of  the  colours  themselves  ;  for  the  ideas  of  greater  or  lesser 
degrees  of  refrangibility  being  applied  to  these  words,  and 
the  blind  man  being  instructed  in  what  other  respects  they 
were  found  to' agree  or  to  disagree,  it  was  as  easy  for  him  ro 
reason  upon  the  words,  as  if  he  had  been  fully  master  of 
the  ideas.  Indeed  it  must  be  owned  he  could  make  no  new 
discoveries  in  the  way  of  experiment.  He  did  nothing  but 
what  we  do  every  day  in  common  discourse.  When  I  wrote 
this  last  sentence,  and  used  the  words  every  day  and  common 
discourse^  I  had  no  images  in  my  mind  of  any  succession  of 
time  ;  nor  of  men  in  conference  with  each  other  ;  nor  do 
I  imagine  that  the  reader  will  have  any  such  ideas  on  read- 
ing it.     Neither  when  I  spoke  of  red,  or  blue  and  green,  as 


204-  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

well  as  refrangibility,  had  I  these  several  colours,  or  the  rays 
of  light  passing  into  a  different  medium,  and  there  diverted 
from  their  course,  painted  before  me  in  the  way  of  images. 
I  know  very  well  that  the  mind  possesses  a  faculty  of  raising 
such  images  at  pleasure  ;  but  then  an  act  of  the  will  is  neces- 
sary to  this  i  and  in  ordinary  conversation  or  reading  it  is 
very  rarely  that  any  image  at  all  is  excited  in  the  mind.  If 
I  say  *'  I  shall  go  to  Italy  next  summer,"  I  am  well  under- 
stood. Yet  I  believe  nobody  has  by  this  painted  in  his  im- 
agination the  exact  figure  of  the  speaker  passing  by  land  or 
by  water,  or  both  ;  sometimes  on  horseback,  sometimes  in 
a  carriage  j  with  all  the  particulars  of  the  journey.  Still  less 
has  he  any  idea  of  Italy,  the  country  to  which  I  propose  to 
go  •,  or  of  the  greenness  of  the  fields,  the  ripening  of  the 
fruits,  and  the  warmth  of  the  air,  with  the  change  to  this 
from  a  different  season,  which  are  the  ideas  for  which  the 
word  iiimmer  is  substituted  ;  but  least  of  all  has  he  any 
image  from  the  word  next  ,-  for  this  word  stands  for  the  idea 
of  many  summers,  with  the  exclusion  of  all  but  one  :  and 
surely  the  man  who  says  fiexi  sutnmery  has  no  images  of  such 
a  succession,  and  such  an  exclusion.  In  short  it  is  not  only 
of  those  ideas  which  are  commonly  called  abstract,  and  of 
which  no  image  at  all  can  be  formed,  but  even  of  particular 
real  beings,  that  we  converse  without  having  any  idea  of 
them  excited  in  the  imagination  j  as  will  certainly  appear 
on  a  diligent  examination  of  our  own  minds.  Indeed,  so  lit- 
tle does  poetry  depend  for  its  effect  on  the  power  of  raising 
sensible  images,  that  I  am  convinced  it  would  lose  a  very 
considerable  part  of  its  energy  if  this  were  the  necessary  re- 
sult of  all  description.  Because  that  union  of  affecting  words, 
which  is  the  most  powerful  of  all  poetical  instruments,  would 
frequently  lose  its  force  along  with  its  propriety  and  consis- 
tency, if  the  sensible  images  were  always  excited.  There  is 
not  perhaps  in  the  whole  Eneid  a  more  grand  and  laboured 
passage  than  the  description  of  Vulcan's  cavern  in  Etna,  and 
the  works  that  are  there  carried  on.  Virgil  dwells  particu- 
larly on  the  formation  of  the  thunder,  which  he  describes  un- 
finished under  the  hammers  of  the  Cyclops.  But  what  ai*e 
the  principles  of  this  extraordinary  composition  ? 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  205 

Tf^s  imbris  torii  radioSy  tres  nuhis  aquos£ 
Addiderant ;  riitili  tres  ignis  et  alitis  austrt ; 
Fulgores  nunc  terrijicosy  sonitutnquey  metumqut 
J^liscebant  operi^  jiammisque  sequacibus  iras. 

This  seems  to  me  admirably  sublime  ;  yet  if  we  attend  coolly 
to  the  kind  of  sensible  images  which  a  combination  of  ideas 
of  this  sort  must  form,  the  chimeras  of  madmen  cannot  ap- 
pear more  wild  and  absurd  than  such  a  picture.     *'  Three 
rays  of  twisted  showers^  three  of  watery  cloudsy  three  of  Jire, 
and  three  of  the   winged  south   wind ;  then  mixed  they  in  the 
ivork  terrifick  lightningSy  and  sound  and  fear^  and  anger y   ivith 
pursuing  fames."     This  strange  composition  is  formed   into 
a  gross  body  ;  it  is  hammered  by  the  Cyclops,  it  is  in  part 
polished,  and  partly  continues  rough.     The  truth  is,  if  poe- 
try gives  us  a  noble   assemblage   of  words  corresponding  to 
many  noble  ideas,  which  are   connected  by  circumstances  of 
time  or  place,  or  related  to  each  other  as  cause  and  eiFect,  or 
associated  in  any  natural  way,  they  may  be  moulded  together 
in  any  form,  and  perfectly  answer  their   end.     The  pictur- 
esque connexion  is  not  demanded ;  because  no  real   picture 
is  formed  j  nor  is  the  effect  of  the  description  at  all  the  less 
upon  this  account.     What  is  said  of  Helen  by  Priam  and  the 
old  men  of  his  council,  is  generally  thought  to  giv,e  us  the 
Ijighest  possible  idea  of  that  fatal  beauty. 

Tolled  ctfA(pt  yvvxiKt  5r«A«v  ^foyoy  a^ysx  Tra^T^irj 
Atvag  a    cc$civxl*\at  ^im   £<?   ai^et  soixiv. 

They  crfdy  no  wonder  such  celestial  charms 
For  nine  long  years  have  set  the  luorld  in  arms  ; 
What  winning  graces  !  what  majestick  mien  ! 
She  moves  a  goddessy  and  she  looks  a  queen. 

Pope. 

Here  is  not  one  word  said  of  the  particulars  of  her  beauty ; 
nothing  which  can  in  the  least  help  us  to  any  precise  idea  of 
her  person ;  but  yet  we  are  much  more  touched  by  this  man- 


206  ON  THE  SUBLIME 

ncr  of  mentioning  her  than  by  those  long  and  laboured  de- 
scriptions of  Helen,  whether  handed  down  by  tradition,  or 
formed  by  fancy,  which  are  to  be  met  with  in  some  authors. 
I  am  sure  it  affects  me  much  more  than  the  minute  descrip- 
tion which  Spenser  has  given  of  Belphebe  ;  though  I  own 
that  there  are  parts  in  that  description,  as  there  are  in  all 
the  descriptions  of  that  excellent  writer,  extremely  fine  and 
poetical.  The  terrible  picture  which  Lucretius  has  drawn  of 
religion,  in  order  to  display  the  magnanimity  of  his  philo- 
sophical hero  in  opposing  her,  is  thought  to  be  designed  with 
great  boldness  and  spirit : 

Humana  ante  oculos  foede  cum  vita  jacerety 
In  terris,  oppressa  gravi  sub  religione^ 
Qute  caput  e  ctr/i  regionibus  ostendebat 
Horribili  super  aspectu  mortalibus  instans  ; 
Primus  Graius  homo  mortalcs  tollere  contra 
Est  oculos  ausus. — 

What  idea  do  you  derive  from  so  excellent  a  picture  ?  none 
at  all,  most  certainly  ;  neither  has  the  poet  said  a  single  word 
which  might  in  the  least  serve  to  mark  a  single  limb  or  fea- 
ture of  the  phantom,  which  he  intended  to  represent  in  all 
the  horrours  imagination  can  conceive.  In  reality  poetry 
and  rhetorick  do  not  succeed  in  exact  description  so  well  as 
painting  does  ;  their  business  is,  to  affect  rather  by  sympa- 
thy than  imitation ;  to  display  rather  the  effect  of  things  on 
the  mind  of  the  speaker,  or  of  others,  than  to  present  a  clear 
idea  of  the  things  themselves.  This  is  their  most  extensive 
province,  and  that  in  which  they  succeed  the  best. 

SECT.  VI. 

POETRY    NOT    STRICTLY  AN    IMITATIVE    ART. 

HENCE  we  may  observe  that  poetry,  taken  in  its  most 
general  sense,  cannot  with  strict  propriety  be  called  an  art 
of  imitation.  It  is  indeed  an  imitation  so  far  as  it  describes 
the  manners  and  passions  of  men  which  their  words  can 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  207 

express  ;  where  anlmi  motus  effert  interprete  lingua.  There  it 
is  strictly  imitation  -,  and  all  merely  dramatlck  poetry  is  of 
this  sort.  But  descriptive  poetry  operates  chiefly  by  substitu- 
tion ;  by  means  of  sounds,  which  by  custom  have  the  effect 
of  realities.  Nothing  is  an  imitation  further  than  as  it  re- 
sembles some  other  thing  ;  and  words  undoubtedly  have  no 
sort  of  resemblance  to  the  ideas  for  which  they  stand. 

SECT.  VII. 

HOW    WORDS    INFLUENCE    THE    PASSIONS. 

NOW,  as  words  affect,  not  by  any  original  power,  but  by 
representation,  it  might  be  supposed,  that  their  influence 
over  the  passions  should  be  but  light ;  yet  it  is  quite  other- 
wise ;  for  we  find  by  experience  that  eloquence  and  poetry 
are  as  capable,  nay  indeed  much  more  capable,  of  making 
deep  and  lively  impressions  than  any  other  arts,  and  even 
than  nature  itself  in  very  many  cases.  And  this  arises  chief- 
ly from  these  three  causes.  First,  that  we  take  an  extraor- 
dinary part  in  the  passions  of  others,  and  that  we  are  easily 
affected  and  brought  into  sympathy  by  any  tokens  which  are 
shewn  of  them  j  and  there  are  no  tokens  which  can  express 
all  the  circumstances  of  most  passions  so  fully  as  words  ;  so 
that  if  a  person  speaks  upon  any  subject,  he  can  not  only 
convey  the  subject  to  you,  but  likewise  the  manner  in  which 
he  is  himself  affected  by  it.  Certain  it  is,  that  the  influence 
of  most  things  on  our  passions  is  not  so  much  from  the  things 
themselves,  as  from  our  opinions  concerning  them  j  and 
these  again  depend  very  much  on  the  opinions  of  other  men, 
conveyable  for  the  most  p^art  by  words  only.  Secondly, 
there  are  many  things  of  a  very  affecting  nature,  which  can 
seldom  occur  in  the  reality,  but  the  words  Avhich  represent 
them  often  do  •,  and  thus  they  have  an  opportunity  of  mak- 
ing a  deep  impression  and  taking  root  in  the  mind,  whilst 
the  idea  of  the  reality  was  transient ;  and  to  some  perhaps 
never  really  occurred  in  any  shape,  to  whom  it  is  notwith- 
standing very  affecting,  as  war,  death,  famine,  &c.  Besides 
many  ideas  have  never  been  at  all  presented  to  the  senses  of 


208  ON  THE  SUBLlMl 

any  men  but  by  words,  as  God,  angels,  devils,  heaven,  and 
hell,  all  of  which  have  however  a  great  influence  over  the 
passions.  Thirdly,  by  words  we  have  it  in  our  power  to 
make  such  combinations  as  we  cannot  possibly  do  otherwise. 
By  this  power  of  combining  we  are  able,  by  the  addition  of 
well  chosen  circumstances,  to  give  a  new  life  and  force  to  the 
simple  object.  In  painting  we  may  represent  any  fine  figure 
we  please  ;  but  we  never  can  give  it  those  enlivening  touches 
which  it  may  receive  from  words.  To  represent  an  angel  in 
a  picture,  you  can  only  draw  a  beautiful  young  man  winged : 
but  what  painting  can  furnish  any  thing  so  grand  as  the  addi- 
tion of  one  word,  *'the  angel  of  the  LordP"  It  is  true,  I 
have  here  no  clear  idea  j  but  these  words  affect  the  mind 
more  than  the  sensible  image  did  ;  which  is  all  I  contend  for. 
A  picture  of  Priam  dragged  to  the  altar's  foot,  and  there  mur- 
dered, if  it  were  well  executed,  would  undoubtedly  be  very 
moving  •,  but  there  are  very  aggravating  circumstances,  which 
it  could  never  represent : 

Zanguine  foedantetn  quos  ipse  sacraverat  ignes. 

As  a  further  instance,  let  us  consider  those  lines  of  Milton, 
where  he  describes  the  travels  of  the  fallen  angels  through 
their  dismal  habitation : 

O'er  many  a  dark  and  dreary  vale 

They  pass'dy  and  many  a  region  dolorous  ; 

O'er  many  a  frozen^  many  a  fiery  Alp  ; 

RochSf  caves y  lakes y  fens y  bogSy  densy  and  shades  of  death y 

A  universe  of  death. 

Here  is  displayed  the  force  of  union  in 

Rocks,  caves,  lakes,  dens,  bogs,  fens,  and  shades} 

which  yet  would  lose  the  greatest  part  of  the  effect,  If  thej 
were  not  the 

Recks,  cavesy  lakes,  dens,  bogs,  fens,  and  shades-—^ 
of  Death. 


AND  BEAUTIFUL.  209 

This  idea  or  this  affection  caused  by  a  word,  which  nothing 
but  a  word  could  annex  to  the  others,  raises  a  very  great  de- 
gree of  the  subUme  ;  and  this  sublime  is  raised  yet  higher 
by  what  follows,  a  *'  universe  of  Death."  Here  are  again  two 
ideas  not  presentable  but  by  language ;  and  an  union  of 
them  great  and  amazing  beyond  conception ;  if  they  may 
properly  be  called  ideas  which  present  no  distinct  image  to 
the  mind  : — but  still  it  will  be  difficult  to  conceive  how  words 
can  move  the  passions  which  belong  to  real  objects,  without 
representing  these  objects  clearly.  This  is  difficult  to  usj 
because  we  do  not  sufficiently  distinguish,  in  our  observations 
upon  language,  between  a  clear  expression,  and  a  strong  ex- 
pression. These  are  frequently  confounded  with  each  other, 
though  they  are  in  reality  extremely  different.  The  former 
regards  the  understanding;  the  latter  belongs  to  the  passions. 
The  one  describes  a  thing  as  it  is  \  the  latter  describes  it  as 
it  is  felt.  Now,  as  there  is  a  moving  tone  of  voice,  an  im- 
passioned countenance,  an  agitated  gesture,  which  affect  inde- 
pendently of  the  things  about  which  they  are  exerted,  so 
there  are  words,  and  certain  dispositions  of  words,  which  be- 
ing peculiarly  devoted  to  passionate  subjects,  and  always  used 
by  those  who  are  under  the  influence  of  any  passion,  touch 
and  move  us  more  than  those  which  far  more  clearly  and 
distinctly  express  the  subject  matter.  We  yield  to  sympathy 
what  we  refuse  to  description.  The  truth  is,  all  verbal  de- 
scription, merely  as  naked  description,  though  never  so  ex- 
act, conveys  so  poor  and  insufficient  an  idea  of  the  thing  de- 
scribed, that  it  could  scarcely  have  the  smallest  effect,  if  the 
speaker  did  not  call  in  to  his  aid  those  modes  of  speech  that 
mark  a  strong  and  lively  feeling  in  himself.  Then,  by  the 
contagion  of  our  passions,  we  catch  a  fire  already  kindled  in 
another,  which  probably  might  never  have  been  struck  out 
by  the  object  described.  Words,  by  strongly  conveying  the 
passions,  by  those  means  which  we  have  already  mentioned, 
fully  compensate  for  their  weakness  in  other  respects.  It 
may  be  observed,  that  very  polished  languages,  and  such  as 
are  praised  for  their  superiour  clearness  and  perspicuity,  are 
generally  deficient  in  strength.  The  French  language  has 
that  perfection  and  that  defect.  Whereas  the  oriental 
Vol.  I.  E  e 


§i()  Oji  THE  SUBLIM^,  &c. 

tongues,  and  in  general  the  la'figu'ages  of  most  iiripbUshed 
people,  have  a  great  force  and  energy  of  expression  ;  arid 
this  is  but  natural.  Uncultivated  people  are  but  ordinary 
observers  of  things,  and  not  critical  in  distinguishing  them  ; 
but,  for  that  reason,  they  adriiire  more,  and  are  more  affect- 
ed with  what  they  see,  and  therefore  express  themselves  iri 
a  warmer  and  more  passionate  manner.  If  the  affection  be 
well  conveyed,  it  will  work  its  effect  without  any  clear  idea  j 
often  without  any  idea  at  all  of  the  thing  which  has  origin- 
ally given  rise  to  it. 

It  might  be  expected  from  the  fertility  of  the  subject,  that 
I  should  consider  poetry  as  it  regards  the  sublime  and  beau- 
tiful, more  at  large  ;  but  it  must  be  observed  that  in  this  light 
it  has  been  often  and  well  handled  already.  It  was  not  my 
design  to  enter  into  the  criticism  of  the  sublime  and  beauti- 
ful in  any  art,  but  to  attempt  to  lay  down  such  principles  as 
may  tend  to  ascertain,  to  distinguish,  and  to  form  a  sort  of 
standard  for  them ;  which  purposes  I  thought  might  be  best 
effected  by  an  inquiry  into  the  properties  of  such  things  in 
nature,  as  raise  love  and  astonishment  in  us ;  and  by  shew- 
ing in  what  manner  they  operated  to  produce  these  passions. 
Words  were  only  so  far  to  be  considered,  as  to  shew  upon 
what  principle  they  were  capable  of  being  the  representatives 
of  these  natural  things,  and  by  what  powers  they  were  able 
to  affect  us  often  as  strongly  as  the  things  they  represent, 
and  sometimes  much  more  strongly. 


SHORT  ACCOUNT 


OF    A    LATE 


SHORT  ADMINISTRATION. 


1766. 


SHORT  ACCOUNT 


OF    A    LATE 


SHORT  ADMINISTRATION. 


X  HE  late  administration  came  into  employ- 
ment, under  the  mediation  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  on 
the  tenth  day  of  July  1765  ;  and  was  removed,  upon  a  plan 
settled  by  the  Earl  of  Chatham,  on  the  thirtieth  day  of  July 
1766,  having  lasted  just  one  year  and  twenty  days. 

In  that  space  of  time 

The  distractions  of  the  British  empire  were  composed,  by 
tie  repeal  of  the  American  stamp  act  ; 

But  the  constitutional  superiority  of  Great  Britain  was 
preserved,  by  the  act  for  securing  the  dependence  of  the  colonies. 

Private  houses  were  relieved  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
excise,  by  the  repeal  of  the  cyder-tax. 

The  personal  liberty  of  the  subject  was  confirmed,  by  the 
resolution  against  general  warrants. 

The  lawful  secrets  of  business  and  friendship  were  rendered 
inviolable,  by  the  resolution  for  condemnitig  the  seizure  of  papers. 

The  trade  of  America  was  set  free  from  injudicious  and 
ruinous  impositions — its  revenue  was  improved,  and  settled 
upon  a  rational  foundation — its  commerce  extended  with  for- 
eign countries  ;  while  all  the  advantages  were  secured  to 
Great  Britain,  by  the  act  for  repealing  certain  duties^  and  en- 
couragingj  regulating,  and  securing  the  trade  of  this  kingdom^ 
and  the  British  dominions  in  America. 


214'  SHORT  ACCOUNT  OF 

Materials  were  provided  and  insured  to  our  manufactures — 
the  sale  of  these  manufactures  was  increased — the  African 
trade  preserved  and  extended — the  principles  of  the  act  of 
navigation  pursued,  and  the  plan  improved — and  the  trade 
for  bullion  rendered  free,  secure,  and  permanent,  by  the  act 
for  opening  certain  ports  in  Dominica  atid  Jamaica. 

That  administration  was  the  first  which  proposed  and  en- 
couraged publick  meetings  and  free  consultations  of  mer- 
chants from  all  parts  of  the  kingdom  ;  by  which  means  the 
truest  lights  have  been  received  ;  great  benefits  have  been 
already  derived  to  manufactures  and  commerce  \  and  the 
most  extensive  prospects  are  opened  for  further  improve- 
ment. 

Under  them,  the  interests  of  our  nothern  and  southern 
colonies,  before  that  time  jarring  and  dissonant,  were  under- 
stood, compared,  adjusted,  and  perfectly  reconciled.  The 
passions  and  animosities  of  the  colonies,  by  judicious  and  len- 
ient measures,  were  allayed  and  composed,  and  the  founda- 
tion laid  for  a  lasting  agreement  amongst  them. 

Whilst  that  administration  provided  for  the  liberty  and 
commerce  of  their  country,  as  the  true  basis  of  its  power, 
they  consulted  its  interests,  they  asserted  its  honour  abroad, 
with  temper  and  with  firmness  ;  by  making  an  advantageous 
treaty  of  commerce  with  Russia  ;  by  obtaining  a  liquidation 
of  the  Canada  bills,  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  proprietors  ;  by 
reviving  and  raising  from  its  ashes  the  negociation  for  tlie 
Manilla  ransom,  which  had  been  extinguished  and  abandon- 
ed by  their  predecessors. 

They  treated  their  sovereign  with  decency  j  with  rever- 
ence. They  discountenanced,  and,  it  is  hoped,  forever  a- 
bolished,  the  dangerous  and  unconstitutional  practice  of  re- 
moving military  officers  for  their  votes  in  parliament.  They 
firmly  adhered  to  those  friends  of  liberty,  who  had  run  all 
hazards  in  its  cause,  and  provided  for  them  in  preference 
to  every  other  claim. 

With  the  Earl  of  Bute  they  had  no  personal  connection  ; 
no  correspondence  of  councils.  They  neither  courted  him 
nor  persecuted  hiin.  They  practised  no  corruption  j  nor 
were  they  even  suspected  of  it.     They  sold  no  offices.    They 


A  LATE  SHORT  ADMINISTRATION.  215 

obtained  no  reversions  or  pensions,  either  coming  in  or  go- 
ing out,  for  themselves,  their  families,  or  their  dependents. 

In  the  prosecution  of  their  measures  they  were  traversed 
by  an  opposition  of  a  new  and  singular  character  ;  an  oppo- 
sition of  place-men  and  pensioners.  They  were  supported 
by  the  confidence  of  the  nation.  And  having  held  their  of- 
fices under  many  difficulties  and  discouragements,  they  left 
them  at  the  express  command,  as  they  had  accepted  them  at 
the  earnest  request,  of  their  royal  master. 

These  are  plain  facts  -,  of  a  clear  and  publick  nature  ;  nei- 
ther extended  by  elaborate  reasoning,  nor  heightened  by  the 
colouring  of  eloquence.  They  are  the  services  of  a  single 
year. 

The  removal  of  that  administration  from  power,  is  not  to 
them  premature  j  since  they  were  in  office  long  enough  to 
accomplish  many  plans  of  publick  utility  ;  and,  by  their  per- 
severance and  resolution,  rendered  the  way  smooth  and  easy 
to  their  successours  •,  having  left  their  king  and  their  country 
in  a  much  better  condition  than  they  found  them.  By  the 
temper  they  manifest,  they  seem  to  have  now  no  other  wish, 
than  that  their  successours  may  do  the  publick  as  real  and 
as  faithful  service  as  they  have  done. 


OBSERVATIONS 


ON    A 


LATE  PUBLICATION, 


INTITULED, 


THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF  THE  NATION, 


"  O  Tite,  si  quid  ego  adjuvero  curamve  levasso, 
"  Quse.  nunc  te  coquit,  et  versat  sub  pectore  fixa, 
"  Ecquid  erit  pretii  ?  Enn.  ap.  Cic. 


1769. 


Vol.  I. 


OBSERVATIONS 


ON  A 


LATE  PUBLICATION, 


INTITULED, 


THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF  THE  NATION. 


Jl  ARTY  divisions,  whether  on  the  whole 
operating  for  good  or  evil,  are  things  inseparable  from  free 
government.  This  is  a  truth  which,  I  believe,  admits  little 
dispute,  having  been  established  by  the  uniform  experience 
of  all  ages.  The  part  a  good  citizen  ought  to  take  in  these 
divisions,  has  been  a  matter  of  much  deeper  controversy. 
But  God  forbid,  that  any  controversy  relating  to  our  essen- 
tial morals  should  admit  of  no  decision.  It  appears  to  me, 
that  this  question,  like  most  of  the  others  which  regard  our 
duties  in  life,  is  to  be  determined  by  our  station  in  it.  Pri- 
vate men  may  be  wholly  neutral,  and  entirely  innocent ;  but 
they  who  are  legally  invested  with  publick  trust,  or  stand  on 
the  high  ground  of  rank  and  dignity,  which  is  trust  implied, 
can  hardly  in  any  case  remain  indifferent,  without  the  cer- 
tainty of  sinking  into  insignificance  ;  and  thereby  in  effect 
deserting  that  post  in  which,  with  the  fullest  authority,  and 
for  the  wisest  purposes,  the  laws  and  institutions  of  their 
country  have  fixed  them.  However,  if  it  be  the  office  of 
those  who  are  thus  circumstanced,  to  take  a  decided  part,  it 
is  no  less  their  duty  that  it  should  be  a  sober  one.  It  ought 
to  be  circumscribed  by  the  same  lav>'s  of  decorum,  r.nd  bal- 
anced by  the  same  temper,  which  bound  and  regulate  all  the 


220  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

virtues.  In  a  word,  we  ought  to  act  in  party  with  all  the 
moderation  which  does  not  absolutely  enervate  that  vigour, 
and  quench  that  fervency  of  spirit,  without  which  the  best 
wishes  for  the  pubHck  good  must  evaporate  in  empty  specu- 
lation. 

It  is  probably  from  some  such  motives  that  the  friends  of 
a  very  respectable  party  in  this  kingdom  have  been  hitherto 
silent.  For  these  two  years  past,  from  one  and  the  same 
quarter  of  politicks,  a  continual  fire  has  been  kept  upon 
theai ;  sometimes  from  the  unwieldy  column  of  quartos  and 
octavos  •,  sometimes  from  the  light  squadrons  of  occasional 
pamphlets  and  flying  sheets.*  Every  month  has  brought  on 
its  periodical  calumny.  The  abuse  has  taken  every  shape 
which  the  ability  of  the  writers  could  give  it  •,  plain  invec- 
tive, clumsy  raillery,  misrepresented  anecdote.*  No  meth- 
od of  vilifying  the  measures,  the  abilities,  the  intentions, 
or  the  persons  which  compose  that  body,  has  been  omitted. 

On  their  part  nothing  was  opposed  but  patience  and  char- 
acter. It  was  a  matter  of  the  most  serious  and  indignant 
aflilction  to  persons,  who  thought  themselves  in  conscience 
bound  to  oppose  a  ministry,  dangerous  from  its  very  consti- 
tution, as  well  as  its  measures,  to  find  themselves,  whenever 
they  faced  their  adversaries,  continually  attacked  on  the  rear 
by  a  set  of  men.  who  pretended  to  be  actuated  by  motives 
similar  to  theirs.  They  saw  that  the  plan  long  pursued  with 
but  too  fatal  a  success,  was  to  break  the  strength  of  this 
kingdom  5  by  frittering  down  the  bodies  which  compose  it ; 
by  fomenting  bitter  and  sanguinary  animosities,  and  by  dis- 
solving every  tie  of  social  affection  and  publick  trust.  These 
virtuous  men,  such  I  am  warranted  by  publick  opinion  to 
call  them,  were  resolved  rather  to  endure  every  thing,  than 
co-operate  in  that  design.  A  diversity  of  opinion  upon  al- 
most every  principle  of  politicks  had  indeed  drawn  a  strong 
line  of  separation  between  them  and  some  others,  Hov/evcr, 
they  were  desirous  not  to  extend  the  misfortune  by  unneces- 
sary bitterness ;  they  wished  to  prevent  a  difference  of  opin- 
ion on  the  commonwealth  from  festering  into  rancorous  and 

*  History  of  the  Minority.     History  of  the  Repeal  of  the  Stamp-Act. 
Considerations  on  Trade  and  Fiuance.     Politicai  Register,  &c.  &c. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  221 

incurable  hostility.  Accordingly  they  endeavoured  that  all 
past  controversies  should  be  forgotten  ;  and  that  enough  for 
the  day  should  be  the  evil  thereof.  There  is  however  a 
limit  at  which  forbearance  ceases  to  be  a  virtue.  Men  may 
tolerate  injuries,  whilst  they  are  only  personal  to  themselves. 
But  it  is  not  the  first  of  virtues  to  bear  with  moderation  the 
indignities  that  are  offered  to  our  country.  A  piece  has  at 
lenp-th  appeared,  from  the  quarter  of  all  the  former  attacks, 
which  upon  every  publick  consideration  demands  an  answer. 
Whilst  persons  more  equal  to  this  business  may  be  engaged 
in  affairs  of  greater  moment,  I  hope  I  shall  be  excused,  if, 
in  a  few  hours  of  a  time  not  very  important,  and  from  such 
materials  as  I  have  by  me  (more  than  enough  however  for 
this  purpose),  I  undertake  to  set  the  facts  and  arguments  of 
this  wonderful  performance  in  a  proper  light.  I  will  en- 
deavour to  state  what  this  piece  is ;  the  purpose  for  which  I 
take  it  to  have  been  written ;  and  the  effects  (supposing  it 
should  have  any  effect  at  all)  it  must  necessarily  produce. 

This  piece  is  called.  The  present  State  of  the  Nation.  It  may 
be  considered  as  a  sort  of  digest  of  the  avowed  maxims  of  a 
certain  political  school,  the  effects  of  whose  doctrines  and 
practices  this  country  will  feel  long  and  severely.  It  is  made 
up  of  a  farrago  of  almost  every  topick  which  has  been  agi- 
tated in  parliamentary  debate,  or  private  conversation,  on 
national  affairs,  for  these  last  seven  years.  The  oldest  con- 
troversies are  hauled  out  of  the  dust  with  which  time  and 
neglect  had  covered  them.  Arguments  ten  times  repeated, 
a  thousand  times  answered  before,  are  here  repeated  again, 
Publick  accounts  formerly  printed  and  re-printed  revolve 
once  more,  and  find  their  old  station  in  this  sober  meridian. 
All  the  common-place  lamentations  upon  the  decay  of  trade, 
the  increase  of  taxes,  and  the  high  price  of  labour  and  pro- 
visions, are  here  retailed  again  and  again  in  the  same  tone 
with  which  they  have  drawled  through  columns  of  Gazet.? 
teers  and  Advertisers  for  a  century  together.  Paradoxes 
which  affront  common  sense,  and  uninteresting  barren  truths 
v/hich  generate  no  conclusion,  are  tlirown  in  to  augment  un-r 
wieldy  bulk,  without  adding  any  thing  to  weight.  Because 
two  accusations  are  better  than  one,   contradictions  are  set 


2^22  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Staring  one  another  in  the  face,  without  even  an  attempt  to 
reconcile  them.  And  to  give  the  whole  a  sort  of  portentous 
air  of  labour  and  information,  the  table  of  the  house  of  com- 
mons is  swept  into  this  grand  reservoir  of  politicks. 

As  to  the  composition,  it  bears  a  striking  and  whimsical 
resemblance  to  a  funeral  sermon,  not  only  in  the  pathetick 
prayer  with  which  it  concludes,  but  in  the  style  and  tenour 
of  the  whole  performance.  It  is  piteously  doleful,  nodding 
every  now  and  then  towards  dullness  ;  well  stored  with  pious 
frauds,  and,  like  most  discourses  of  the  sort,  much  better 
calculated  for  the  private  advantage  of  the  preacher  than  the 
edification  of  the  hearers. 

The  author  has  indeed  so  involved  his  subject,  that  it  is 
frequently  far  from  being  easy  to  comprehend  his  meaning. 
It  is  happy  for  the  publick  that  it  is  never  difficult  to  fathom 
his  design.     The  apparent  intention  of  this  author  is  to  draw 
the  most  aggravated,  hideous,  and  deformed  picture  of  the 
state  of  this  country,  which  his  querulous  eloquence,   aided 
by  the  arbitrary  dominion  he  assumes  over  fact,  is  capable  of 
exhibiting.     Had  he  attributed  our  misfortunes  to  their  true 
cause,  the  injudicious  tampering  of  bold,  improvident,  and 
visionary  ministers  at  one  period,  or  to  their  supine  negli- 
gence  and  traitorous  dissensions  at  another,  the  complaint 
had  been  just,  and  might  have  been  useful.     But  far  the 
greater  and  much  the  worst  part  of  the  state  which  he   ex- 
hibits is  owing,  according  to  his  representation,  not  to  acci- 
dental and  extrinsick  mischiefs  attendant  on  the  nation,  but 
to  its  radical  weakness  and  constitutional   distempers.     All 
this  however  is  not   without   purpose.     The   author  is  in 
hopes,  that,  when  we  are   fallen  into  a  fanatical  terrour  for 
the  national  salvation,  we  shall  then  be  ready  to  throw  our- 
selves, in  a  sort  of  precipitate  trust,  some  strange  disposition 
of  the  mind  jumbled  up  of  presumption  and  despair,  into 
the  hands  of  the  most  pretending  and  forward  undertaker. 
One  such  undertaker  at  least  he  has  in  readiness  for  our  ser- 
vice.    But  let  me  assure  this  generous  person,  that  however 
he  may  succeed  in  exciting  our  fears  for  the  publick  danger, 
he  will  find  it  hard  indeed  to  engage  us  to  place  any  confi- 
dence in  the  system  he  proposes  for  our  security. 


5TATE  OF  THE  NATION.  223 

His  undertaking  is  great.  The  purpose  of  this  pamphlet, 
and  at  which  it  aims  directly  or  obliquely  in  every  page,  is  to 
persuade  the  publick  of  three  or  four  of  the  most  difficult 
points  in  the  world — that  all  the  advantages  of  the  late  war 
were  on  the  part  of  the  Bourbon  alliance  ;  that  the  peace  of 
Paris  perfectly  consulted  the  dignity  and  interest  of  this 
country  ;  and  that  the  American  stamp-act  was  a  master 
piece  of  policy  and  finance  ;  that  the  only  good  minister  this 
nation  has  enjoyed  since  his  majesty's  accession,  is  the  Earl  of 
Bute  ;  and  the  only  good  managers  of  revenue  we  have  seen 
are  Lord  Despenser  and  Mr.  George  Grenville ;  and  under 
the  description  of  men  of  virtue  and  ability,  he  holds  them 
out  to  us  as  the  only  persons  fit  to  put  our  afi'airs  in  order. 
Let  not  the  reader  mistake  me  :  he  does  not  actually  name 
these  persons  ;  but,  having  highly  applauded  their  conduct 
in  all  its  parts,  and  heavily  censured  every  other  set  of  men 
in  the  kingdom,  he  then  recommends  us  to  his  men  of  vir- 
tue and  ability. 

Such  is  the  author's  scheme.  Whether  it  will  answer  his 
purpose,  I  know  not.  But  surely  that  purpose  ought  to  be 
a  wonderfully  good  one,  to  warrant  the  methods  he  has  ta- 
ken to  compass  it.  If  the  facfts  and  reasonings  in  this  piece 
are  admitted,  it  is  all  over  with  us.  The  continuance  of  our 
tranquillity  depends  upon  the  compassion  of  our  rivals. 
Unable  to  secure  to  ourselves  the  advantages  of  peace,  we 
are  at  the  same  time  utterly  unfit  for  war.  It  is  impossible, 
if  this  state  of  things  be  credited  abroad,  that  we  can  have 
any  alliance  -,  all  nations  will  fly  from  so  dangerous  a  con- 
nexion, lest,  instead  of  being  partakers  of  our  strength,  they 
should  only  become  sharers  in  our  ruin.  If  it  is  believed  at 
home,  all  that  firmness  of  mind,  and  dignified  national  cour- 
age, which  used  to  be  the  great  support  of  this  isle  against 
the  powers  of  the  world,  must  melt  away,  and  fail  within  us. 
In  such  a  state  of  things  can  it  be  amiss,  if  I  aim  at  hold- 
ing out  some  comfort  to  the  nation  ;  another  sort  of  com- 
fort indeed,  than  that  which  this  writer  provides  for  it  ;  a 
comfort,  not  from  its  physician,  but  from  its  constitution  ;  if 
I  attempt  to  shew  that  all  the  arguments  upon  which  he 
founds  the  decay  of  that  constitution,  and  the  necessity  of 


221.  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

that  physician,  are  vain  and  frivolous  ?  I  will  follow  the  au- 
thor closely  in  his  own  long  career,  through  the  Avar,  the 
peace,  the  finances,  our  trade,  and  our  foreign  poHticks  :  not 
for  the  sake  of  the  particular  measures  which  he  discusses  ; 
that  can  be  of  no  use ;  they  are  all  decided  ;  their  good  is 
all  enjoyed,  or  their  evil  incurred  :  but  for  the  sake  of  the 
principles  of  war,  peace,  trade,  and  finances.  These  princi- 
ples are  of  infinite  moment.  They  must  come  again  and 
again  under  consideration  ;  and  it  imports  the  publick,  of  all 
things,  that  those  of  its  ministers  be  enlarged,  and  just,  and 
well  confirmed,  upon  all  these  subjects.  What  notions  this 
author  entertains,  we  shall  see  presently  ;  notions  in  my  opin- 
ion very  irrational,  and  extremely  dangerous  ;  and  which, 
if  they  should  crawl  from  pamphlets  into  counsels,  and  be 
realised  from  private  speculation  into  national  measures,  can- 
not fail  of  hastening  and  completing  our  ruin. 

This  author,  after  having  paid  his  compliment  to  the 
shewy  appearances  of  the  late  war  in  our  favour,  is  in  the  ut- 
most haste  to  tell  you  that  these  appearances  were  fallacious, 
that  they  Avere  no  more  than  an  imposition. — I  fear  I  must 
trouble  the  reader  with  a  pretty  long  quotation,  in  order  to 
set  before  him  the  more  clearly  this  author's  peculiar  way  of 
conceiving  and  reasoning  : 

"  Happily  {the  K.)  was  then  advised  by  ministers,  who 
did  not  suffer  themselves  to  be  dazzled  by  the  glare  of  bril- 
liant apperirances  ;  but,  knoV(/ing  them  to  he  fallacious,  they 
wisely  resolved  to  profit  of  their  splendour  before  our  ene- 
mies should  also  discover  the  iinpositicn. — ^The  increase  in  the 
exports  was  found  to  have  been  occasioned  chiefly  by  the 
demands  of  our  oivnfeets  and  armies,  and,  instead  of  bringing 
wealth  to  the  nation,  was  to  be  paid  for  by  oppressive  taxes 
upon  the  people  of  England.  While  the  British  seamen 
were  consuming  on  board  our  men  of  war  and  privateers,  for- 
eign ships  and  foreign  seamen  were  employed  in  the  trans- 
portation of  our  merchandize  ;  and  the  carrying  trade,  so 
great  a  source  of  wealth  and  marine,  luas  entirely  engrossed  by 
the  neutral  nations.  The  number  of  British  ships  annually  ar- 
riving in  our  ports  was  reduced  1756  sail,  containing  92,559 
tons,  on  a  medium  of  the  six  years  war,  compared  with  the 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  225 

six  years  of  peace  preceding  it. — ^The  conquest  of  the  Ha- 
vannah  had,  indeed,  stopped  the  remittance  of  specie  from 
Mexico  to  Spain  ;  but  it  had.  not  enabled  England  to  seize 
it  :  on  the  contrary,  our  merchants  suffered  by  the  detention 
of  the  galleons,  as  their  correspondents  in  Spain  tuere  disabled 
from  paying  thetnfor  their  goods  sent  to  America.  The  loss  of 
the  trade  to  old  Spain  luas  a  farther  bar  to  an  influx  of  specie  ; 
and  the  attempt  upon  Portugal  had  not  only  deprived  us  of 
an  import  of  bullion  from  thence,  but  the  payment  of  our 
troops  employed  in  its  defence  was  a  fresh  drain  opened  for 
the  diminution  of  our  circulating  specie. — The  high  pre- 
miums given  for  new  loans  had  sunk  the  price  of  the  old 
stock  near  a  third  of  its  original  value,  so  that  the  purchas- 
ers had  an  obligation  from  the  state  to  re-pay  them  with  an 
addition  of  33  per  cent,  to  their  capital.  Every  new  loan  re- 
quired new  taxes  to  be  imposed  ;  new  taxes  must  add  to  the 
price  of  our  manufactures  and  lessen  their  consumption  among 
foreigners.  The  decay  of  our  trade  must  necessarily  occasion 
a  decrease  of  the  publick  revenue ;  and  a  deficiency  of  our 
funds  must  either  be  made  up  by  fresh  taxes,  which  would 
only  add  to  the  calamity,  or  our  national  credit  must  be  de- 
stroyed, by  shewing  the  publick  creditors  the  inability  of  the 
nation  to  re-pay  them  their  principal  money. — Bounties  had 
already  been  given  for  recruits  which  exceeded  the  year's 
wages  of  the  ploughman  and  reaper ;  and  as  these  were  ex^ 
hausted,  and  husbandry  stood  still  for  nvant  of  hands ^  the  man- 
ufacturers were  next  to  be  tempted  to  quit  the  anvil  and  the 
loom  by  higher  offers. — France ,  bankrupt  France,  had  no  such 
calamities  impending  over  her  ;  her  distresses  were  great,  but 
they  ivere  immediate  and  temporary  ;  her  nvant  of  credit  pre^ 
served  her  from  a  great  increase  of  debt,  and  the  loss  of  her  ultra- 
marine dominions  lessened  her  expenses.  Her  colonies  had,  in- 
deed, put  themselves  into  the  hands  of  the  English ;  but  the  prop- 
erty of  her  subjects  had  been  preserved  by  capitulations,  and  a 
ivay  opened  for  making  her  those  remittances,  ivhich  the  ivar  had 
before  suspended,  luith  as  much  security  as  in  the  time  of  peace. — 
Her  armies  in  Germany  had  been  hitherto  prevented  from 
seizing  upon  Hanover  ;  but  they  continued  to  encamp  on 
the  same  ground  on  which  the  first  battle  was  fought ;  and, 
Vol.  I.  G  G 


226  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

as  it  must  ever  happen  from  the  poHcy  of  that  government, 
the  last  troops  she  sent  into  the  field  ivere  always  found  to  be  the 
best,  and  her  frequent  losses  only  served  to  fill  her  regiments  loith 
better  soldiers.  The  conquest  of  Hanover  became  therefore  every 
campaign  more  probable.  It  is  not  to  be  noted,  that  the  French 
troops  received  subsistence  only,  for  the  last  three  years  of 
the  war  ;  and  that,  ahhough  large  arrears  were  due  to  them 
at  its  conclusion,  the  charge  was  the  less  during  its  continu- 
ance*." 

If  any  one  be  willing  to  see  to  how  much  greater  lengths 
the  author  carries  these  ideas,  he  will  recur  to  the  book. 
This  is  sufficient  for  a  specimen  of  his  manner  of  thinking. 
I  believe  one  x-eflection  uniformly  obtrudes  itself  upon  every 
reader  of  these  paragraphs.  For  what  purpose  in  any  cause 
shall  we  hereafter  contend  with  France  ?  can  we  ever  flatter 
ourselves  that  we  shall  wage  a  more  successful  war  ?  If,  on 
our  part,  in  a  war  the  most  prosperous  we  ever  carried  on, 
by  sea  and  by  land,  and  in  every  part  of  the  globe,  attended 
with  the  unparalleled  circumstance  of  an  immense  increase 
of  trade  and  augmentation  of  revenue  ;  if  a  continued  series 
of  disappointments,  disgraces,  and  defeats,  followed  by  pub- 
lick  bankruptcy,  on  the  part  of  France  \  if  all  these  still 
leave  her  a  gainer  on  the  whole  balance,  will  it  not  be  down- 
right phrenzy  in  us  ever  to  look  her  in  the  face  again,  or  to 
contend  with  her  any,  even  the  most  essential  points,  since 
victory  and  defeat,  though  by  different  ways,  equally  conduct 
us  to  our  ruin  ?  Subjection  to  France  without  a  struggle  will 
indeed  be  less  for  our  honour,  but  on  every  principle  of  our 
author  it  must  be  more  for  our  advantage.  According  to  his 
representation  of  things,  the  question  is  only  concerning  the 
most  easy  fall.  France  had  not  discovered,  our  statesman 
tells  us,  at  the  end  of  that  war,  the  triumphs  of  defeat,  and 
the  resources  which  are  derived  from  bankruptcy.  For  my 
poor  part,  I  do  not  wonder  at  their  blindness.  But  the  Eng- 
lish ministers  saw  further.  Our  author  has  at  length  let  for- 
eigners also  into  the  secret,  and  made  them  altogether  as 
wise  as  ourselves.  It  is  their  own  fault  if  (vulgato  imperii 
arcanoj  they  are  imposed  upon  any  longer.     They  now  are 

*  P.  6,  7,  8,  9,  10. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  227" 

apprised  of  the  sentiments  which  the  great  candidate  for 
the  government  of  this  great  empire  entertains  j  and  they 
will  act  accordingly.  They  are  taught  our  weakness  and 
their  own  advantages. 

He  tells  the  world*,  that  if  France  carries  on  the  war 
against  us  in  Germany,  evei-y  loss  she  sustains  contributes  to 
the  achievement  of  her  conquest.  If  her  armies  are  three 
years  unpaid,  she  is  the  less  exhausted  by  expense.  If  her 
credit  is  destroyed,  she  is  the  less  oppressed  with  debt.  If 
her  troops  are  cut  to  pieces,  they  will  by  her  policy  (and  a 
wonderful  policy  it  is)  be  improved,  and  will  be  supplied  with 
much  better  men.  If  the  war  is  carried  on  in  the  colonies, 
he  tells  them  that  the  loss  of  her  ultramarine  dominions  les- 
sens her  expensesf,  and  ensures  her  remittances : 

Per  davmay  per  dedes,  ab  ipso 
Ducit  opes  animumque  ferro. 

If  so,  what  is  it  we  can  do  to  hurt  her  .^ — it  will  be  all  an 
imposition,  all  fallacious.  Why  the  result  must  be — Occidity 
occidit  spes  emnis  ^  fortuna  nostri  nominis. 

The  only  way  which  the  author's  principles  leave  for  our 
escape,  is  to  reverse  our  condition  into  that  of  France,  and 
to  take  her  losing  cards  into  our  hands.  But  though  his  prin- 
ciples drive  him  to  it,  his  politicks  will  not  suffer  him  to  walk 
on  this  ground.  Talking  at  our  ease  and  of  other  coun- 
tries, we  may  bear  to  be  diverted  with  such  speculations ; 
but  in  England  we  shall  never  be  taught  to  look  upon  the 
annihilation  of  our  trade,  the  ruin  of  our  credit,  the  defeat 
of  our  armies,  and  the  loss  of  our  ultramarine  dominions 
(whatever  the  author  may  think  of  them),  to  be  the  high 
road  to  prosperity  and  greatness. 

The  reader  does  not,  I  hope,  imagine  that  I  m.ean  serious- 
ly to  set  about  the  refutation  of  these  uningenious  paradoxes 
and  reveries  without  imagination.  I  state  them  only  that 
we  may  discern  a  little  in  the  questions  of  war  and  peace, 
the  most  weighty  of  all   questions,  what  is  the  wisdom  of 

*  P.  9,  10.  f  P.  9. 


228  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

those  men  who  are  held  out  to  us  as  the  only  hope  of  an 
expiring  nation.  The  present  ministry  is  indeed  of  a  strange 
character :  at  once  indolent  and  distracted.  But  if  a  minis- 
terial system  should  be  formed,  actuated  by  such  maxims  as 
are  avowed  in  this  piece,  the  vices  of  the  present  ministry 
would  become  their  virtues  j  their  indolence  would  be  the 
greatest  of  all  publick  benefits,  and  a  distraction  that  entirely 
defeated  every  one  of  their  schemes  would  be  our  only  secu- 
rity from  destruction. 

To  have  stated  these  reasonings  is  enough,  I  presume,  to 
do  their  business.  But  they  are  accompanied  with  facts  and 
records,  which  may  seem  of  a  little  more  weight.  I  trust 
however  that  the  facts  of  this  author  will  be  as  far  from 
bearing  the  touchstone,  as  his  arguments.  On  a  little  en- 
quiry, they  will  be  found  as  great  an  imposition  as  the  suc- 
cesses they  are  meant  to  depreciate ;  for  they  are  all  either 
false  or  fallaciously  applied  ;  or  not  in  the  least  to  the  purpose 
for  which  they  are  produced. 

First,  the  author,  in  order  to  support  his  favourite  paradox, 
that  our  possession  of  the  French  colonies  was  of  no  detri- 
ment to  France,  has  thought  proper  to  inform  us,  that* 
"  they  put  themselves  into  the  hands  of  the  English."  He 
uses  the  same  assertion,  in  nearly  the  same  words,  in  another 
place  ;  f "  her  colonies  had  put  themselves  into  our  hands." 
Now,  in  justice  not  only  to  fact  and  common  sense,  but  to 
the  incomparable  valour  and  perseverance  of  our  military 
and  naval  forces  thus  unhandsomely  traduced,  I  must  tell 
-this  author,  that  the  French  colonies  did  not  "  put  them- 
selves into  the  hands  of  the  English."  They  were  compell-< 
ed  to  submit  5  they  were  subdued  by  dint  of  English  valour. 
Will  the  five  years  war  carried  on  in  Canada,  in  which  fell 
one  of  the  principal  hopes  of  this  nation,  and  all  the  battles 
lost  and  gained  during  that  anxious  period,  convince  this  au- 
thor of  his  mistake  ?  Let  him  inquire  of  sir  Jefiery  Am- 
herst, under  whose  conduct  that  war  was  carried  on  ;  of  sir 
Charles  Saunders,  whose  steadiness  and  presence  of  mind 
saved  our  fleet,  and  were  so  eminently  serviceable  ki  the 

*  P.  9.'  t  P-  6- 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  229 

whole  course  of  the  siege  of  Quebec ;  of  general  Monck- 
ton,  who  was  shot  through  the  body  there,  whether  France 
«  put  her  colonies  into  the  hands  of  the  English." 

Though  he  has  made  no  exception,  yet  I  would  be  liberal 
to  him ;  perhaps  he  means  to  confine  himself  to  her  colo- 
nies in  the  West  Indies.  But  surely  it  will  fare  as  ill  with 
him  there  as  in  North  America,  whilst  we  remember  that  in 
our  first  attempt  at  Martinico  we  were  actually  defeated  ;  that 
it  was  three  months  before  we  reduced  Guadaloupe  ;  and 
that  the  conquest  of  the  Havannah  was  achieved  by  the 
highest  conduct,  aided  by  circumstances  of  the  greatest  good 
forcune.  He  knows  the  expense  both  of  men  and  treasure 
at  which  we  bought  that  place.  However,  if  it  had  so  pleas- 
ed the  peace-makers,  it  was  no  dear  purchase  5  for  it  was 
decisive  of  the  fortune  of  the  war  and  the  terms  of  the 
treaty :  the  duke  of  Nivernois  thought  so  ;  France,  England, 
Europe,  considered  it  in  that  light ;  all  the  world,  except  the 
then  friends  of  the  then  ministry,  who  wept  for  our  victo- 
ries, and  were  in  haste  to  get  rid  of  the  burthen  of  our  con- 
quests. This  author  knows  that  France  did  not  put  those 
colonies  into  the  hands  of  England  ;  but  he  well  knows  who 
did  put  the  most  valuable  of  them  into  the  hands  of 
France. 

In  the  next  place,  our  author*  is  pleased  to  consider  the 
conquest  of  those  colonies  in  no  other  light  than  as  a  conve- 
nience for  the  remittances  to  France,  which  he  asserts  that 
the  war  had  before  suspended,  but  for  which  a  way  was 
opened  (by  our  conquest)  as  secure  as  in  time  of  peace.  I 
charitably  hope  he  knows  nothing  of  the  subject.  I  referred 
him  lately  to  our  commanders  for  the  resistance  of  the  French 
colonies  j  I  now  wish  he  would  apply  to  our  custom-house 
entries,  and  our  merchants,  for  the  advantages  which  we  de- 
rived from  them. 

In  1761,  there  was  no  entry  of  goods  from  any  of  the 
conquered  places  but  Guadaloupe  j  in  that  year  it  stood 
thus : 


P.  9. 


250  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Imports  from  Guadaloupe,         -  value,  482,179 


In  1762,  when  we  had  not  yet  delivered  up 

our  conquests,  the  account  was,  £. 

Guadaloupe,         -         _         _         >  S13,244< 

Martinico,             -         -         _         -  288,425 


Total  imports  in  1762,  value,  j^.801,669 


In  1763,  after  we  had  delivered  up  the  sov- 
ereignty of  these  islands,  but  kept  open  a 
communication  with  them,  the  imports 
were,  £. 

Guadaloupe,         _         -         -         _  412,303 

Martinico,  .         _         .         _  344,161 

Havannah,  -         -         _         -  249,386 


Total  imports  in  1763,  value,  £.  1,005,850 


Besides,  I  find  in  the  account  of  bullion  imported  and 
brought  to  the  bank,  that  during  that  period  in  which  the 
intercourse  with  the  Havannah  was  open,  we  received  at  that 
one  shop,  in  treasure,  from  that  one  place  j^.  559,810  j  in 
the  year  1763,  £.  389,450  ;  so  that  the  import  from  these 
places  in  that  year  amounted  to  jT.  1,395,300. 

On  this  state  the  reader  will  observe,  that  I  take  the  im- 
ports from,  and  not  the  exports  to,  these  conquests,  as  the 
measure  of  the  advantages  which  we  derived  from  them.  I 
do  so  for  reasons  which  will  be  somewhat  worthy  the  atten- 
tion of  such  readers  as  are  fond  of  this  species  of  inquiry. 
I  say  therefore  I  choose  the  import  article,  as  the  best,  and 
indeed  the  only  standard  we  can  have,  of  the  value  of  the 
West  India  trade.  Our  export  entry  does  not  comprehend 
the  greatest  trade  we  carry  on  with  any  of  the  West  India 
islands,  the  sale  of  negroes :  nor  does  it  give  any  idea  of 
two  other  advantages  we  draw  from  them  -,  the  remittances 
for  money  spent  here,  and  the  payment  of  part  of  the  bal- 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  231 

ance  of  the  North  American  trade.  It  is  therefore  quite 
ridiculous,  to  strike  a  balance  merely  on  the  face  of  an  ex- 
cess of  imports  and  exports,  in  that  commerce  ;  though,  in 
most  foreign  branches,  it  is,  on  the  whole,  the  best  method. 
If  we  should  take  that  standard,  it  would  appear,  that  the 
balance  with  our  own  islands  is,  annually,  several  hundred 
thousand  pounds  against  this  country*.  Such  is  its  aspect 
on  the  custom-house  entries ;  but  we  know  the  direct  con- 
trary to  be  the  fact.  We  know  that  the  West  Indians  are 
always  indebted  to  our  merchants,  and  that  the  value  of  ev- 
ery shilling  of  West  India  produce  is  English  property.  So 
that  our  import  from  them,  and  not  our  export,  ought  al- 
ways to  be  considered  as  their  true  value ;  and  this  correc- 
tive ought  to  be  applied  to  all  general  balances  of  our  trade, 
which  are  formed  on  the  ordinary  principles. 

If  possible,  this  was  more  emphatically  true  of  the  French 
West  India  islands,  whilst  they  continued  in  our  hands.  That 
none,  or  only  a  very  contemptible  part  of  the  value  of  this 
produce,  could  be  remitted  to  France,  the  author  will  see, 
perhaps  with  unwillingness,  but  with  the  clearest  conviction, 
if  he  considers,  that  in  the  year  1763,  after  ive  had  ceased  to 
export  to  the  isles  of  Guadaloupe  and  Martlnico,  and  to  the 
Havannah,  and  after  the  colonies  were  free  to  send  all  their 
produce  to  Old  France  and  Spain,  if  they  had  any  remit- 
tance to  make ;  he  will  see,  that  we  imported  from  those 
places,  in  that  year,  to  the  amount  of  £.  1,395,300.  So 
far  was  the  whole  annual  produce  of  these  islands  from  be- 
ing adequate  to  the  payments  of  their  annual  call  upon  us, 
that  this  mighty  additional  importation  was  necessary,  though 
not  quite  sufficient,  to  discharge  the  debts  contracted  in  the 
few  years  we  held  them.  The  property,  therefore,  of  their 
whole  produce,  was  ours  j  not  only  during  the  war,  but   e- 

*  Total  imports  from  the  West  Indies  in  1764,  2,909,411 

Exports  to  ditto  in  ditto,         -----  896,511 


Excess  of  imports,         -         ^         ,         .         -         -         ^.2,012,900 

In  this,  which  is  the  common  way  of  stating  the  balance,  it  will   appear 
mpwards  of  two  millions  against  us,  which  is  ridiculous. 


232  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

ven  for  more  than  a  year  after  the  peace.  The  author,  I 
hope,  will  not  again  venture  upon  so  rash  and  discouraging 
a  proposition,  concerning  the  nature  and  effect  of  those-con- 
quests,  as  to  call  them  a  convenience  to  the  remittances  of 
France  ;  he  sees  by  this  account,  that  what  he  asserts  is  not 
only  without  foundation,  but  even  impossible  to  be  true. 

As  to  our  trade  at  that  time,  he  labours  with  all  his  might 
to  represent  it  as  absolutely  ruined,  or  on  the  very  edge  of 
ruin.  Indeed,  as  usual  with  him,  he  is  often  as  equivocal  in 
his  expression,  as  he  is  clear  in  his  design.  Sometimes  he 
more  than  insinuates  a  decay  of  our  commerce  in  that  war ; 
sometimes  he  admits  an  increase  of  exports  j  but  it  is  in 
order  to  depreciate  the  advantages  we  might  appear  to  derive 
from  that  increase,  whenever  it  should  come  to  be  proved 
against  him.  He  tells  you,  *"  that  it  was  chiefly  occasioned 
by  the  demands  of  our  own  fleets  and  armies,  and,  instead 
of  bringing  wealth  to  the  nation,  was  to  be  paid  for  by  op- 
pressive taxes  upon  the  people  of  England."  Never  was  any 
thing  more  destitute  of  foundation.  It  might  be  proved 
with  the  greatest  ease,  from  the  nature  and  quality  of  the 
goods  exported,  as  well  as  from  the  situation  of  the  places 
to  which  our  merchandise  was  sent,  and  which  the  war  could 
no  wise  affect,  that  the  supply  of  our  fleets  and  armies  could 
not  have  been  the  cause  of  this  wonderful  increase  of  trade ; 
its  cause  was  evident  to  the  whole  world  j  the  ruin  of  the 
trade  of  France,  and  our  possession  of  her  colonies.  What 
wonderful  effects  this  cause  produced,  the  reader  will  see  be- 
lowf ;  and  he  will  form  on  that  account  some  judgment  of 
the  author's  candour  or  information. 

•  P.  6. 

1754.  £.  s.    d. 

f  Total  export  of  British  goods,  value,       8,317,506  15     3 

Ditto  of  foreign  goods  in  time,  -         -         -          2,910,836  14     9 

Ditto  of  ditto  out  of  time,           -  -         .         .           559,485  2  10 


Total  exports  of  all  kinds,         ....       11,787,828  12  10 
Total  imports, 8,093,472  15     O 


Balance  in  favour  of  England,        -        -        -        -        ;^,3,694,355  17  10 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  233 

Admit  however  that  a  great  part  of  our  export,  though 
nothing  is  more  remote  from  fact,  was  owing  to  the  supply 
of  our  fleets  and  armies ;  was  it  not  something  ? — was  it  not 
pecuHarly  fortunate  for  a  nation,  that  she  was  able  from  her 
own  bosom  to  contribute  largely  to  the  supply  of  her  armies 
militating  in  so  many  distant  countries  ?  The  author  allows 
that  France  did  not  enjoy  the  same  advantages.  But  it  is  re- 
markable throughout  his  whole  book,  that  those  circumstan- 
ces which  have  ever  been  considered  as  great  benefits,  and 
decisive  proofs  of  national  superiority,  are,  when  in  our 
hands,  taken  either  in  diminution  of  some  other  apparent 
advantage,  or  even  sometimes  as  positive  misfortunes.  The 
opticks  of  that  politician  must  be  of  a  strange  conformation, 
who  beholds  every  thing  in  this  distorted  shape. 

So  far  as  to  our  trade.  With  regard  to  our  navigation,  he 
is  still  more  uneasy  at  our  situation,  and  still  more  fallacious 
in  his  state  of  it.  In  his  text,  he  affirms  it  "  to  have  been 
entirely  engrossed  by  the  neutral  nations*."  This  he  asserts 
roundly  and  boldly,  and  without  the  least  concern  ;  although 
it  cost  no  more  than  a  single  glance  of  the  eye  upon  his  own 
margin  to  see  the  full  refutativ.  '^of  this  assertion.  His  own 
account  proves  against  him,  that  in  the  year  1761,  the  Brit- 

1761.  ■                 £.  X,  d. 

Total  export  of  British  goods,  -         -         -                 10,649,581  12  6 

Ditto  of  foreign  goods  in  time,  .         L           .             3,553,692  7  1 

Ditto  of  ditto  out  of  time,  -         _         _         -          355,015  0  2 


Total  exports  of  all  kinds,         ...         -  14,558,288   19     9 

Total  imports,         .         -         .         .         _  .  9,294,915     1     6 


Balance  in  favour  of  England,  .         *         .         £.5,263,373  18     3 


Here  is  the  state  of  our  trade  in  1761,  compared  with  a  very  good  year  of 
profound  peace  :  both  are  taken  from  the  authentick  entries  at  the  custom- 
house. How  the  author  can  contrive  to  make  this  increase  of  the  ex- 
port of  English  produce  agree  with  his  account  of  the  dreadful  want  of 
hands  in  England,  p.  9,  unless  he  supposes  manufactures  to  be  made  with- 
out hands,  I  really  do  not  see.  It  is  painful  to  be  so  frequently  obliged  to  set 
this  author  right  in  matters  of  fact.  This  state  will  fully  refute  all  that  he  has 
said  or  insinuated  upon  the  difficulties  and  decay  of  our  trade,  p.  6,  7,  and  9* 

*  P.  7.    See  also  p.  IS. 

Vol.  L  H  ii 


234-  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

ish  shipping  amounted  to  527,557  tons — the  foreign  to  no 
more  than  180,102.  The  medium  of  his  six  years  British, 
2,449,555  tons — foreign  only  905,690.  This  state  (his 
own)  demonstrates  that  the  neutral  nations  did  not  entirely 
engross  our  navigation. 

I  am  willing  from  a  strain  of  candour  to  admit  that  this  au- 
thor speaks  at  random  ;  that  he  is  only  slovenly  and  inaccu- 
rate, and  not  fallacious.  In  matters  of  account,  however, 
this  want  of  care  \s  not  excusable  :  and  the  difference  between 
neutral  nations  entirely  engrossing  our  navigation,  and  being 
only  subsidiary  to  a  vastly  augmented  trade,  makes  a  most 
material  difference  to  his  argument.  From  that  principle  of 
fairness,  though  the  author  speaks  otherwise,  I  am  willing  to 
suppose  he  means  no  more  than  that  our  navigation  had  so 
declined  as  to  alarm  us  with  the  probable  loss  of  this  valua- 
ble object.  I  shall  however  shew,  that  his  whole  proposi- 
tion, whatever  modifications  he  may  please  to  give  it,  is  with- 
out foundation  ;  that  our  navigation  was  not  decreased  ;  that, 
on  the  contrary,  it  was  greatly  increased  in  the  war ;  that  it 
was  increased  by  the  war  -,  and  that  it  was  probable  the  same 
cause  would  continue  to  augment  it  to  a  still  greater  height; 
to  what  an  height  it  is  hard  to  say,  had  our  success  continued. 

But  first,  I  must  observe,  I  am  much  less  solicitous  wheth- 
er his  fact  be  true  or  no,  than  whether  his  principle  is  well 
established.  Cases  are  dead  things,  principles  are  living  and 
productive.  I  then  affirm  that,  if  in  time  of  war  our  trade  had 
the  good  fortune  to  increase,  and  at  the  same  time  a  large, 
nay  the  largest,  proportion  of  carriage  had  been  engrossed  by 
neutral  nations,  it  ought  not  in  itself  to  have  been  consider- 
ed as  a  circumstance  of  distress.  War  is  a  time  of  inconve- 
nience to  trade  ;  in  general  it  must  be  straitened,  and  must 
find  its  way  as  it  can.  It  is  often  happy  for  nations  that  they 
are  able  to  call  in  neutral  navigation.  They  all  aim  at  it. 
France  endeavoured  at  it,  but  could  not  compass  it.  Will 
this  author  say,  that  in  a  war  with  Spain,  such  an  assistance 
would  not  be  of  absolute  necessity  ?  that  it  would  not  be  the 
most  gross  of  all  follies  to  refuse  it .'' 

In  the  next  place,  his  method  of  stating  a  medium  of  six 
years  of  war,  and  six  years   of  peace,  to  decide  this  question 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  235 

is  altogether  unfair.  To  say,  in  derogation  of  the  advanta- 
ges of  a  war,  that  navigation  is  not  equal  to  what  it  was  in 
time  of  peace,  is  v/hat  hitherto  has  never  been  heard  of.  No 
war  ever  bore  that  test  but  the  war  which  he  so  bitterly  la- 
ments. One  inay  lay  it  down  as  a  maxim,  that  an  average 
estimate  of  an  object  in  a  steady  course  of  rising  or  of  falling, 
must  in  its  nature  be  an  unfair  one  ;  more  particularly  if  the 
cause  of  the  rise  or  fall  be  visible,  and  its  continuance  in  any 
degree  probable.  Average  estimates  are  never  just  but  when 
the  object  fluctuates,  and  no  reason  can  be  assigned  v.'hy  it 
should  not  continue  still  to  fluctuate.  The  author  chooses 
to  allow  nothing  at  all  for  this  :  he  has  taken  an  average  of 
six  years  of  the  war.  He  knev/,  for  every  body  knows,  that 
the  first  three  years  were  on  the  whole  rather  unsuccessful  ; 
and  that,  in  consequence  of  this  ill  success,  trade  sunk,  and 
navigation  declined  with  it ;  but  that  grand  delusion  of  the 
three  last  years  turned  the  scale  in  our  favour.  At  the  be- 
ginning of  that  war  (as  in  the  commencement  of  every  war), 
traders  v^^ere  struck  with  a  sort  of  panick.  Many  went  out , 
of  the  freighting  business.''  But  by  degrees,  as  the  war  con- 
tinued, the  terrour  wore  off ;  the  danger  came  to  be  better 
appreciated,  and  better  provided  against  ;  our  trade  was  car- 
ried on  in  large  fleets,  under  regular  convoys,  and  with  great 
safety.  The  freighting  business  revived.  The  ships  Avcre 
fewer,  but  much  larger  ;  and  though  the  number  decreased, 
the  tonnage  was  vastly  augmented  ;  insomuch  that  in  1761 
the  British  shipping  had  risen  by  the  author's  own  account 
527,557  tons. — In  the  last  year  he  has  given  us  of  the  peace 
it  amounted  to  no  more  than  494,772  ;  that  is,  in  the  last 
year  of  the  war  it  was  32,785  tons  more  than  in  the  corres- 
pondent year  of  his  peace  average.  No  year  of  the  peace 
exceeded  it  except  one,  and  that  but  little. 

The  fair  account  of  the  matter  is  this.  Our  trade  had,  as 
we  have  just  seen,  increased  to  so  astonishing  a  degree  in 
1761,  as  to  employ  Britifli  and  foreign  ships  to  the  amount 
of  707,659  tons,  which  is  149,500  more  than  we  employed 
in  the  last  year  of  the  peace. — ^Thus  our  trade  increased 
more  than  a  fifth  ;  our  British  navigation  had  increased  likc- 
t^'ise  with  this  astonishing  increase  of  trade,  but  was  not  able 


236  OBSERVATIONS  ON   A   LATE 

to  keep  pace  with  it  ;  and  we  added  about  120,000  ton  of 
foreign  shipping  to  the  60,000,  which  had  been  employed  in 
the  last  year  of  the  peace.  Whatever  happened  to  our  ship- 
ping in  the  former  years  of  the  war,  this  would  be  no  true 
state  of  the  case  at  the  time  of  the  treaty.  If  we  had  lost 
something  in  the  beginning,  we  had  then  recovered,  and 
more  than  recovered,  all  our  losses.  Such  is  the  ground  of 
the  doleful  complaints  of  the  author,  that  the  carrying  trade 
ivas  wholly  engrossed  by  the  neutral  nations. 

I  have  done  fairly,  and  even  very  moderately,  in  taking 
this  year,  and  not  his  average,  as  the  standard  of  what  might 
be  expected  in  future,  had  the  war  continued.  The  author 
will  be  compelled  to  allow  it,  unless  he  undertakes  to  shew  ; 
firft,  that  the  possession  of  Canada,  Martinico,  Guadaloupe, 
Grenada,  the  Havannah,  the  Philippines,  the  whole  African 
trade,  the  whole  Eaft  India  trade,  and  the  whole  Newfound- 
land fishery,  had  no  certain  inevitable  tendency  to  increase 
the  British  shipping  -,  unless,  in  the  second  place,  he  can 
prove  that  those  trades  were,  or  might,  by  law  or  indulgence, 
be  carried  on  in  foreign  vessels ;  and  unless,  thirdly,  he  can 
demonstrate  that  the  premium  of  insurance  on  British  ships 
was  rising  as  the  war  continued.  He  can  prove  not  one  of 
these  points.  I  will  shew  him  a  fact  more  that  is  mortal  to 
his  assertions.  It  is  the  state  of  our  shipping  in  1762.  The 
author  had  his  reasons  for  stopping  short  at  the  preceding 
year.  It  would  have  appeared,  had  he  proceeded  farther, 
that  our  tonnage  was  in  a  course  of  uniform  augmentation, 
owing  to  the  freight  derived  from  our  foreign  conquests,  and 
to  the  perfect  security  of  our  navigation  from  our  clear  and 
decided  superiority  at  sea.  This,  I  say,  would  have  appear- 
ed from  the  state  of  the  two  years  : 

1761.  British,  -         -       527,557  tons. 

1762.  Ditto",  -         -       559,537  tons. 

1761.  Foreign,  -         -       180,102  tons. 

1762.  Ditto,  -         -        129,502  tons. 

The  two  last  years  of  the  peace  were  in  no  degree  equal  to 
these.     Much  of  the  navigation  of  1763  v/as  also  owing  to 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  237 

the  war  ;  this  is  manifest  from  the  large  part  of  it  employed 
in  the  carriage  from  the  ceded  islands,  with  which  the  com- 
munication still  continued  open.  No  such  circumstances  of 
glory  and  advantage  ever  attended  upon  a  war.  Too  happy 
will  be  our  lot,  if  we  should  again  be  forced  into  a  war,  to 
behold  any  thing  that  shall  resemble  them  j  and  if  we  were 
not  then  the  better  for  them,  it  is  not  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  God's  providence  to  mend  our  condition. 

In  vain  does  the  author  declaim  on  the  high  premiums 
given  for  the  loans  during  the  war.  His  long  note  swelled 
with  calculations  on  that  subject  (even  supposing  the  most  in- 
accurate of  all  calculations  to  be  just)  would  be  entirely 
thrown  away,  did  it  not  serve  to  raise  a  wonderful  opinion  of 
his  financial  skill  in  those  who  are  not  less  surprised  than  edi- 
fied, when,  with  a  solemn  face  and  mysterious  air,  they  are 
told  that  two  and  two  make  four.  For  what  else  do  we  learn 
from  this  note  ?  That  the  more  expense  is  incurred  by  a  na- 
tion, the  more  money  will  be  required  to  defray  it ;  that,  in 
proportion  to  the  continuance  of  that  expense,  will  be  the 
continuance  of  borrowing  ;  that  the  increase  of  borrowing 
and  the  increase  of  debt  will  go  hand  in  hand  ;  and  lastly, 
that  the  more  money  you  want,  the  harder  it  will  be  to  get 
it ;  and  that  the  scarcity  of  the  commodity  will  enhance  the 
price.  Who  ever  doubted  the  truth,  or  the  insignificance, 
of  these  propositions  ?  what  do  they  prove  ?  that  war  is  ex- 
pensive, and  peace  desirable.  They  contain  nothing  more 
than  a  common-place  against  war  j  the  easiest  of  all  topicks. 
To  bring  them  home  to  his  purpose,  he  ought  to  have  shewn, 
that  our  enemies  had  money  upon  better  terms  ;  which  he 
has  not  shewn,  neither  can  he.  I  shall  speak  more  fully  to 
this  point  in  another  place.  He  ought  to  have  shewn,  that 
the  money  they  raised,  upon  whatever  terms,  had  procured 
them  a  more  lucrative  return.  He  knows  that  our  expendi- 
ture purchased  commerce  and  conquest :  theirs  acquired 
nothing  but  defeat  and  bankruptcy. 

Thus  the  author  has  laid  down  his  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
war.  Next  follow  those  he  entertains  on  that  of  peace. 
The  treaty  of  Paris  upon  the  whole  has  his  approbation. 
Indeed,  if  his   account   of  the  war  be  just,  he  might  have 


238  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Spared  himself  all  further  trouble.  The  rest  is  drawn  on  as 
an  inevitable  conclusion.*  If  the  house  of  Bourbon  had  the 
advantage,  she  must  give  the  law  ;  and  the  peace,  though  it 
were  much  worse  than  it  is,  had  still  been  a  good  one.  But, 
ns  the  world  is  yet  deluded  on  the  state  of  that  war,  other  ar- 
guments are  necessary  ;  and  the  author  has  in  my  opinion 
very  111  supplied  them.  He  tells  of  many  things  we  have 
got,  and  of  which  he  has  made  out  a  kind  of  bill.  This 
matter  may  be  brought  within  a  very  narrow  compass,  if  we 
come  to  consider  the  requisites  of  a  good  peace  under  some 
plain  distinct  heads.  I  apprehend  they  may  be  redu'ced  to 
these:  l.StabiHty;  2.  Indemnification  ;  3.  Alliance. 

As  to  the  first,  the  author  more  than  obscurely  hints  in 
several  places,  that  he  thinks  the  peace  not  likely  to  last. 
However,  he  does  furnish  a  security ;  a  security,  in  any  light, 
I  fear,  but  insufficient ;  on  his  hypothesis,  surely  a  very  odd 
one,  f  "  By  stipulating  for  the  entire  possession  of  the  con- 
tinent, (says  he)  the  restored  French  islands  are  become  in 
some  measure  dependent  oh  the  British  empire  ;  and  the 
good  faith  of  France  in  observing  the  treaty  guaranteed  by 
the  value  at  which  she  estimates  their  possession."  This  au- 
thor soon  grows  weary  of  his  principles.  They  seldom  last 
him  for  two  pages  together.  When  the  advantages  of  the 
war  were  to  be  depreciated,  then  the  loss  of  the  ultramarine 
colonies  lightened  the  expenses  of  France,  facilitated  her  re- 
mittances, and  therefore  her  colonists  put  them  into  our  hands. 
According  to  this  author's  system,  the  actual  possession  of 
those  colonies  ought  to  give  us  little  or  no  advantage  in  the 
negotiation  for  peace  ;  and  yet  the  chance  of  possessing  them 
on  a  future  occasion  gives  a  perfect  security  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  that  peace.J  The  conquest  of  the  Havannah,  if  it 
did  not  serve  Spain,  rather  distressed  England,  says  our  au- 
ther.§  But  the  molestation  which  her  galleons  may  suffer 
from  our  station  in  Pensacola  gives  us  advantages,  for  which 
we  were  not   allowed  to  credit  the  nation  for  the  Havannah 

*  P.  12,  13.  t  P.  17.  t   P-  6. 

§  "  Our  merchants  suffered  by  the  detention  of  the  galleons,  as  their 
correspondents  in  Spain  were  disabled  from  paying  them  for  tlieir  good* 
•ent  to  America,"     State  of  tlie  Nation,  p.  7. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  239 

itself  J  a  place  surely  full  as  well  situated  for  every  external 
purpose  as  Pensacola,  ami  of  more  internal  benefit  than  ten 
thousand  Pensacolas. 

The  author  sets  very  little  by  conquests  ;*  I  suppose  it  is 
because  he  makes  them  so  very  lightly.  On  this  subject  he 
speaks  with  the  greatest  certainty  imaginable.  We  have,  ac- 
cording to  him,  nothing  to  do,  but  to  go  and  take  possession, 
whenever  we  think  proper,  of  the  French  and  Spanish  settle- 
ments. It  were  better  that  he  had  examined  a  little  what 
advantage  the  peace  gave  us  towards  the  invasion  of  these 
colonies,  which  we  did  not  possess  before  the  peace.  It 
would  not  have  been  amiss  if  he  had  consulted  the  publick 
experience,  and  our  commanders,  concerning  the  absolute 
certainty  of  those  conquests  on  which  he  is  pleased  to  found 
our  security.  And  if,  after  all,  he  should  have  discovered 
them  to  be  so  very  sure,  and  so  very  easy,  he  might,  at  least, 
to  preserve  consistency,  have  looked  a  few  pages  back,  and 
(no  unpleasing  thing  to  him)  listened  to  himself,  where  he 
says,f  "  that  the  most  successful  enterprise  could  not  compen- 
sate to  the  nation  for  the  waste  of  its  people,  by  carrying  on  war 
in  unhealthy  climates."  A  position  which  he  repeats  again, 
p.  9.  So  that,  according  to  himself  his  security  is  not  worth 
the  suit ;  according  to  fact,  he  has  only  a  chance,  God  knows 
what  a  chance,  of  getting  at  it  j  and  therefore,  according  to 
reason,  the  giving  up  the  most  valuable  of  all  possessions,  in 
hopes  to  conquer  them  back,  under  any  advantage  of  situa- 
tion, is  the  most  ridiculous  security  that  ever  was  imagined 
for  the  peace  of  a  nation.  It  is  true  his  friends  did  not  give 
Hp  Canada  ;  they  could  not  give  up  every  thing  ;  let  us  make 
the  most  of  it.  We  have  Canada,  we  know  its  value.  We 
have  not  the  French  any  longer  to  fight  in  North  America ; 
and,  from  this  circumstance,  we  derive  considerable  advan- 
tages. But  here  let  me  rest  a  little.  The  author  touches 
upon  a  string,  which  sounds  under  his  fingers  but  a  tremu- 
lous and  melancholy  note.  North  America  was  once  indeed 
a  great  strength  to  this  nation,  in  opportunity  of  ports,  In 
ships,  in  provisions,  in  men.     We  found  her  a  sound,  an  ac- 

*   P.  1 2,  1 3.  t  P.  (>. 


240  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

tive,  a  vigorous  member  of  the  empire.  I  hope,  by  wise 
management,  she  will  again  become  so.  But  one  of  our  capi- 
tal present  misfortunes  is,  her  discontent  and  disobedience. 
To  which  of  the  author's  favourites  this  discontent  is  owing, 
we  all  know  but  too  sufficiently.  It  would  be  a  dismal  event, 
if  this  foundation  of  his  security,  and  indeed  of  all  our  pub- 
lick  strength,  should,  in  reality,  become  our  weakness ;  and 
if  all  the  powers  of  this  empire,  which  ought  to  fall  with  a 
compacted  weight  upon  the  head  of  our  enemies,  should  be 
dissipated  and  distracted  by  a  jealous  vigilance,  or  by  hostile 
attempts  upon  one  another.  Ten  Canadas  cannot  restore 
that  security  for  the  peace,  and  for  every  thing  valuable  to 
this  country,  which  we  have  lost  along  with  the  affection 
and  the  obedience  of  our  colonies.  He  is  the  wise  minister, 
he  is  the  true  friend  to  Britain,  who  shall  be  able  to  restore 
it. 

To  return  to  the  security  for  the  peace.  The  author  tells 
us,  that  the  original  great  purposes  of  the  war  were  more 
than  accomplished  by  the  treaty.  Surely  he  has  experience 
and  reading  enough  to  know  that,  in  the  course  of  a  war, 
events  may  happen,  that  render  its  original  very  far  from  be- 
ing its  principal  purpose.  This  original  may  dwindle  by 
circumstances,  so  as  to  become  not  a  purpose  of  the  second  or 
even  the  third  magnitude.  I  trust  this  is  so  obvious,  that  it 
will  not  be  necessary  to  put  cases  for  its  illustration.  In  that 
war,  as  soon  as  Spain  entered  into  the  quarrel,  the  security 
of  North  America  was  no  longer  the  sole  nor  the  foremost 
object.  The  Family  Compact  had  been  I  know  not  how  long 
before  in  agitation.  But  then  it  was  that  we  saw  produced 
into  day-light  and  action  the  most  odious  and  most  formida- 
ble of  all  the  conspiracies  against  the  liberties  of  Europe, 
that  ever  has  been  framed.  The  war  with  Spain  was  the  first 
fruits  of  that  league ;  and  a  security  against  that  league 
ought  to  have  been  the  fundamental  point  of  a  pacification 
with  the  powers  who  compose  it.  We  had  materials  In  our 
hands  to  have  constructed  that  security  in  such  a  manner  as 
never  to  be  shaken.  But  how  did  the  virtuous  and  able  men 
of  our  author  labour  for  this  great  end  ?  They  took  no 
one  step  towards  It.     On  the  contrary  they  countenanced. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  241 

and  indeed,  as  far  as  it  depended  on  them,  recognised  it  in 
all  its  parts ;  for  our  plenipotentiary  treated  with  those  who 
acted  for  the  two  crowns,  as  if  they  had  been  different  min- 
isters of  the  same  monarch.  The  Spanish  minister  received 
his  instructions,  not  from  Madrid  ;  but  from  Versailles. 

This  was  not  hid  from  our  ministers  at  home,  and  the  dis- 
covery ought  to  have  alarmed  them,  if  the  good  of  their 
country  had  been  the  object  of  their  anxiety.  They  could 
not  but  have  seen  that  the  whole  Spanish  monarchy  was 
melted  down  into  the  cabinet  of  Versailles.  But  they  thought 
this  circumstance  an  advantage  ;  as  it  enabled  them  to  go 
through  with  their  work  the  more  expeditiously.  Expedi- 
tion was  every  thing  to  them  ;  because  France  might  happen 
during  a  protracted  negociation  to  discover  the  great  imposi- 
tion of  our  victories. 

In  the  same  spirit  they  nogociated  the  terms  of  the  peace. 
If  it  were  thought  adviseable  not  to  take  any  positive  securi- 
ty from  Spain,  the  most  obvious  principles  of  policy  dictat- 
ed that  the  burthen  of  the  cessions  ought  to  fall  upon  France  j 
and  that  every  thing  which  was  of  grace  and  favour  should 
be  given  to  Spain.  Spain  could  not,  on  her  part,  have  exe- 
cuted a  capital  article  in  the  family  compact,  which  obliged 
her  to  compensate  the  losses  of  France.  At  least  she  could 
not  do  it  in  America ;  for  she  was  expressly  precluded  by 
the  treaty  of  Utrecht  from  ceding  any  territory  or  giving  any 
advantage  in  trade  to  that  power.  What  did  our  ministers  ? 
They  took  from  Spain  the  territory  of  Florida,  an  object  of 
no  value  except  to  shew  our  dispositions  to  be  quite  equal  at 
least  towards  both  powers  ;  and  they  enabled  France  to  com- 
pensate Spain  by  the  gift  of  Louisiana  ;  loading  us  with  all 
the  harshness,  leaving  the  act  of  kindness  with  France,  and 
opening  thereby  a  door  to  the  fulfilling  of  this  the  most  con- 
solidating article  of  the  family  compact.  Accordingly  that 
dangerous  league,  thus  abetted  and  authorised  by  the  Eng- 
lish ministry  without  an  attempt  to  invalidate  it  in  any  way, 
or  in  any  of  its  parts,  exists  to  this  hour  5  and  has  grown 
stronger  and  stronger  every  hour  of  its  existence. 

As  to  the  second  component  of  a  good  peace,  compensa- 
tiorif  I  have  but  little  trouble  ;  the  author  has  said  nothing 

Vol.  I.  I  I 


242  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

upon  that  head.  He  has  nothing  to  say.  After  a  war  of 
such  expense,  this  ought  to  have  been  a  capital  consideration. 
But  on  what  he  has  been  so  prudently  silent,  I  think  it  is 
right  to  speak  plainly.  All  our  new  acquisitions  together, 
at  this  time,  scarce  afford  matter  of  revenue  either  at  home 
or  abroad,  sufficient  to  defray  the  expense  of  their  establish- 
ments ;  not  one  shilling  towards  the  reduction  of  our  debt. 
Guadaloupe  or  Martinico  alone  would  have  given  us  material 
aid  ;  much  in  the  way  of  duties,  much  in  the  way  of  trade 
and  navigation.  A  good  ministry  would  have  considered 
how  a  renewal  of  the  Assiento  might  have  been  obtained. 
We  had  as  much  right  to  ask  it  at  the  treaty  of  Paris  as  at 
the  treaty  of  Utrecht.  We  had  incomparably  more  in  our 
hands  to  purchase  it.  Floods  of  treasure  would  have  poured 
into  this  kingdom  from  such  a  source  ;  and,  under  proper 
management,  no  small  part  of  it  would  have  taken  a  publick 
direction,  and  have  fructified  an  exhausted  exchequer. 

If  this  gentleman's  hero  of  finance,  instead  of  flying  from 
a  treaty,  which,  though  he  now  defends,  he  covdd  not  ap- 
prove, and  would  not  oppose  ;  if  he,  instead  of  shifting  into 
an  office,  which  removed  him  from  the  manufacture  of  the 
treaty,  had,  by  his  credit  with  the  then  great  director,  ac- 
quired for  us  these,  or  any  of  these  objects,  the  possession 
of  Guadaloupe  or  Martinico,  or  the  renewal  of  the  AisientOf 
he  might  have  held  his  head  high  in  his  country  ;  because  he 
would  have  performed  real  service  ;  ten  thousand  times  more 
real  service,  than  all  the  economy  of  which  this  writer  is 
perpetually  talking,  or  all  the  little  tricks  of  finance  which 
the  expertest  juggler  of  the  treasury  can  practise,  could 
amount  to  in  a  thousand  years.  But  the  occasion  is  lost ; 
the  time  is  gone,  perhaps,  for  ever. 

As  to  the  third  requisite,  all'iauce^  there  too  the  author  is 
siknt.  What  strength  of  that  kind  did  they  acquire  ?  They 
got  no  one  new  ally  ;  they  stript  the  enemy  of  not  a  single 
old  one.  They  disgusted  (how  justly,  or  unjustly,  matters 
not)  every  ally  we  had  ;  and  from  that  time  to  this,  we  stand 
friendless  in  Europe.  But  of  this  naked  condition  of  their 
country,  I  know  some  people  are  not  ashamed.  They  have 
their  system  of  politicks ;  our  ancestors  grew  great  by  anoth- 


I 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  24-3 

er.     In  this  manner  these  virtuous  men  concluded  the  peace  ; 
and  their  practice  is  only  consonant  to  their  theory. 

Many  things  more  might  be  observed  on  this  curious  head 
of  our  author's  speculations.  But,  taking  leave  of  what  the 
writer  says  in  his  serious  part,  if  he  be  serious  in  any  part,  I 
shall  only  just  point  out  a  piece  of  his  pleasantry.  No  man, 
I  believe,  ever  denied  that  the  time  for  making  peace  is  that 
in  which  the  best  terms  may  be  obtained.  But  what  that 
time  is,  together  with  the  use  that  has  been  made  of  it,  we 
are  to  judge  by  seeing  whether  terms  adequate  to  our  advan- 
tages, and  to  our  necessities,  have  been  actually  obtained. 
- — Here  is  the  pinch  of  the  question,  and  to  which  the  au- 
thor ought  to.  have  set  his  shoulders  in  earnest.  Instead  of 
doing  this,  he  slips  out  of  the  harness  by  a  jest  •,  and  sneer- 
ingly  tells  us,  that,  to  determine  this  point,  we  must  know 
the  secrets  of  the  French  and  Spanish  cabinets*,  and  that  par- 
liament was  pleased  to  approve  the  treaty  of  peace  without 
calling  for  the  correspondence  concerning  it.  How  just  this 
sarcasm  on  that  parliament  may  be,  I  say  not  -,  but  how  be- 
coming in  the  author,  I  leave  it  to  his  friends  to  determine. 

Having  thus  gone  through  the  questions  of  war  and  peace, 
the  author  proceeds  to  state  our  debt,  and  the  interest  which 
it  carried,  at  the  time  of  the  treaty,  with  the  unfairness  and 
inaccuracy,  however,  which  distinguish  all  his  assertions,  and 
all  his  calculations.  To  detect  every  fallacy,  and  rectify  ev- 
ery mistake,  would  be  endless.  It  will  be  enough  to  point 
out  a  fipw  of  them,  in  order  to  shew  how  unsafe  it  is  to  place 
any  thiftg  like  an  implicit  trust  in  such  a  writer. 

The  interest  of  debt  contracted  during  the  war  is  stated 
by  the  author  at  ^^.2,614,892.  The  particulars  appear  in 
pages  14-  and  15.  Among  them  is  stated  the  unfunded  debt, 
j^.9,975,017,   supposed  to  carry  interest  on  a  medium   at  3 

*  Something  however  has  transpired  in  the  quarrels  among  those  con- 
cerned in  that  transaction.  It  seems  the  gooJ  Genius  of  Britain  so  much  vaunt- 
ed by  our  author,  did  his  duty  nobly.  Whilst  we  were  gaining  such  advan- 
tages, the  court  of  France  was  astonished  at  our  concessions.  "  J'ai  apporte  a 
Versailles,  il  est  vrai,  les  ratifications  du  Roi  d'Angleterre  a  voire gratid ctoniu- 
nient,  et  a  celui  de  Hen  d'auires.  Je  dois  cela  au  bontes  du  Roi  d'Angleterre,  .a 
celles  de  Milord  Bute,  a  Mons.  le  Comte  de  Viry,  a  Mons.  le  Due  de  Niver- 
Bois,  et  ea  fia  a  mon  sgavoir  faire."     I.ettres,  &c.  du  Ohev.  IVEon,  p.  5L 


24i  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

per  cent,  which  amounts  to  j^. 299,250.  We  are  referred  to 
the  Considerations  on  the  Trade  and  Finances  of  the  Kingdom^  p. 
22,  for  the  particulars  of  that  unfunded  debt.  Turn  to  the 
work,  and  to  the  place  referred  to  by  the  author  himself,  if 
you  have  a  mind  to  see  a  clear  detection  of  a  capital  fallacy  of 
this  article  in  his  account.  You  will  there  see  that  this  un- 
funded debt  consists  of  the  nine  following  articles  :  the  re- 
maining subsidy  to  the  duke  of  Brunswick  ;  the  remaining 
dedommagement  to  the  Landgrave  of  Hesse  ;  the  German  de- 
mands \  the  army  and  ordnance  extraordinaries  ;  the  defi- 
ciencies of  grants  and  funds ;  Mr.  Touchet's  claim ;  the 
debts  due  to  Nova  Scotia  and  Barbadoes  ;  Exchequer  bills ; 
and  Navy  debt.  The  extreme  fallacy  of  this  state  cannot 
escape  any  reader  who  will  be  at  the  pains  to  compare  the 
interest  money,  with  which  he  affirms  us  to  have  been  loaded, 
in  his  State  of  the  Nation^  with  the  items  of  the  principal  debt 
to  which  he  refers  in  his  Considerations.  The  reader  must 
observe,  that  of  this  long  list  of  nine  articles,  only  two,  the 
exchequer  bills,  and  part  of  the  navy  debt,  carried  any  in- 
terest at  all.  The  first  amounted  to  j^.  1,800,000  ;  and 
this  undoubtedly  carried  interest.  The  whole  navy  debt  in- 
deed amounted  to  £.  4-,576,915  j  but  of  this  only  a  part  car- 
ried interest.  The  author  of  the  Considerations,  &c.  labours 
to  prove  this  very  point  in  p.  18  j  and  Mr.  G.  has  always  de- 
fended himself  upon  the  same  ground,  for  the  insufficient 
provision  he  made  for  the  discharge  of  that  debt.  The  read- 
er may  see  their  own  authority  for  it.* 

*  "  The  navy  bills  are  jiot  due  till  six  months  after  they  have  been  is- 
sued ;  six  months  also  of  the  seamen's  wages  by  act  of  parliament  must  be, 
and  in  consequence  of  the  rules  prescribed  by  that  act,  twelve  months  wa- 
ges generally,  and  often  much  more  are  retained  ;  and  there  has  been  be- 
sides at  all  times  a  large  arrear  of  pay,  which,  though  kept  in  the  account 
could  never  be  claimed,  the  persons  to  whom  it  was  due  having  left  neither 
assignees  nor  representatives.  The  precise  amount  of  such  sums  cannot  be 
ascertaintd ;  but  they  can  hardly  be  reckoned  less  than  13  or  14  hundred 
thousand  pounds.  On  3 1st  Dec.  1754,  when  the  navy  debt  was  reduced 
nearly  as  low  as  it  could  be,  it  still  amounted  to  1,296,567/.  18j.  11  3-4i/ 
consisting  chiefly  of  articles  which  could  not  then  be  discharged ;  such  arti- 
cles wiU  be  larger  now,  in  proportion  to  the  increase  of  the  establishment ; 
and  an  allowance  must  always  be  made  for  them  in  judging  of  the  state  of 
the  navy  debt,  though  they  are  not  distinguishable  in  the  account.     In  pro- 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  245 

Mr.  G.  did  in  fact  provide  no  more  than  j^.  2,150,000 
for  the  discharge  of  these  bills  in  two  years.  It  is  much  to 
be  wished  that  these  gentlemen  would  lay  their  heads  to- 
gether, that  they  would  consider  well  this  matter,  and  agree 
upon  something.  For  when  the  scanty  provision  made  for 
the  unfunded  debt  is  to  be  vindicated,  then  we  are  told  it  is 
a  very  small  part  of  that  debt  which  carries  interest.  But 
when  tht  publick  is  to  be  represented  in  a  miserable  condi- 
tion, r.nu  the  consequences  of  the  late  war  to  be  laid  before 
us  in  dreadful  colours,  then  we  are  to  be  told  that  the  un- 
funded debt  is  within  a  trifle  of  ten  millions,  and  so  large  a 
portion  of  it  carries  interest  that  we  must  not  compute  less 
than  3  per  cent,  upon  the  ivhole. 

In  the  year  1764,  parliament  voted  j^.  650,000  towards 
the  discharge  of  the  navy  debt.  This  sum  could  not 
be  applied  solely  to  the  discharge  of  bills  carrying  inter- 
est \  because  part  of  the  debt  due  on  seamen's  wages 
must  have  been  paid,  and  some  bills  carried  no  interest 
at  all.  Notwithstanding  this,  we  find  by  an  account  of 
the  journals  of  the  house  of  commons,  in  the  following 
session,  that  the  navy  debt  carrying  interest  was,  on  the  31st 
of  December,  1764<,  no  more  than  j^.  1,687,442.  I  am  sure 
therefore  that  I  admit  too  much  when  I  admit  the  navy  debt 
carrying  interest,  after  the  creation  of  the  navy  annuities  in 
the  year  1763,  to  have  been  j^.  2,200,000.  Add  the  ex- 
chequer bills  ;  and  the  whole  unfunded  debt  carrying  inter- 
est will  be  four  millions  instead  of  ten ;  and  the  annual  in- 
terest paid  for  it  at  ^  per  cent,  will  be  ^.  160,000  instead  of 
£.  299,250.  An  errour  of  no  small  magnitude,  and  which 
could  not  have  been  owing  to  inadvertency. 

The  misrepresentation  of  the  increase  of  the  peace  estab- 
lishment is  still  more  extraordinary  than  that  of  the  inter- 
est of  the  unfunded  debt.  The  increase  is  great  undoubt- 
edly. However,  the  author  finds  no  fault  with  it,  and  urges 
it  only  as  a  matter  of  argument  to  support  the  strange  chim- 

viding  for  that  which  is  payable,  the  principal  object  of  the  legislature  is  al- 
ways to  discharge  the  bills,  for  they  are  the  greatest  article  ;  they  hear  an 
interest  of  4  per  cent. ;  and,  when  the  quantity  of  them  is  large,  they  are  a 
lieavy  incumbrance  upon  all  money  transactions." 


216  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

erical  proposals  he  is  to  make  us  in  the  close  of  his  work 
for  the  increase  of  revenue.  The  greater  he  made  that  es- 
tablishment, the  stronger  he  expected  to  stand  in  argument : 
but,  whatever  he  expected  or  proposed,  he  should  have  stat- 
ed the  matter  fairly.  He  tells  us  that  this  establishment  is 
near  ^.1,500,000  more  than  it  was  in  1752,  1753,  and 
other  years  of  peace.  This  he  has  done  in  his  usual  man- 
ner, by  assertion,  without  ti'oubling  himself  either  with  proof 
or  probability.  For  he  has  not  given  us  any  state  of  the 
peace  establishment  in  the  years  1753  and  1754,  the  time 
which  he  means  to  compare  with  the  present.  As  I  am 
obliged  to  force  him  to  that  precision,  from  which  he  always 
flies  as  from  his  most  dangerous  enemy,  I  have  been  at  the 
trouble  to  search  the  journals  in  the  period  between  the  two 
last  wars  :  and  I  find  that  the  peace  establishment,  consisting 
of  the  navy,  the  ordnance,  and  the  several  incidental  ex- 
penses, amounted  to  £.  2,346,594.  Now  is  this  writer  wild 
enough  to  imagine,  that  the  peace  establishment  of  1764 
and  the  subsequent  years,  made  up  from  the  same  articles,  is 
j^.  3,800,000  and  upwards.^  His  assertion  however  goes  to 
this.  But  I  must  take  the  liberty  of  correcting  him  in  this 
gross  mistake,  and  from  an  authority  he  cannot  refuse,  from 
his  favourite  work,  and  standing  authority,  the  Considera- 
tions. We  find  there,  p.  43*,  the  peace  establishment  of 
1764  and  1765  stated  at  j^.  3,609,700.  This  is  near  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds  less  than  that  given  in  The  State 

*  Navy               ......  1,450,900 

Army             --.-..  1,208,500 

Ordnance       ----..  174,600 

The  four  American  governments         .             _             .  19,200 

General  surveys  in  America                 ...  ]  jqqq 

Foundling  Hospital                   -             -              .              .  38,000 

To  the  African   committee                    -              -              _  13,000 

For  the  civil  establishment  on  the  roast  of  Africa  5,500 

Militia             ......  100,000 

Deficiency  of  land  and  malt                  -             -             -  300,000 

Deficiency  of  funds                   ...              -  202,400 

Extraordinarics  of  the  army  and  navy            -            -  35,000 


Total     ^.  3,609,700 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  247 

of  the  Nation.  But  even  from  this,  in  order  to  render  the 
articles  which  compose  the  peace  establishment  in  the  two 
periods  cori'espondent  (for  otherwise  they  cannot  be  compar- 
ed), we  must  deduct  first,  his  articles  of  the  deficiency  of  land 
and  malt,  which  amount  to  £.  300,000.  They  certainly  are 
no  part  of  the  establishment ;  nor  are  they  included  in  that 
sum,  which  I  have  stated  above  for  the  establishment  in  the 
time  of  the  former  peace.  If  they  were  proper  to  be  stated 
at  all,  they  ought  to  be  stated  in  both  accounts.  We  must 
also  deduct  the  deficiencies  of  funds,  £.  202^400.  .These 
deficiencies  are  the  difference  between  the  interest  charged  on 
the  publick  for  monies  borrowed,  and  the  produce  of  the 
taxes  laid  for  the  discharge  of  that  interest.  Annual  provi- 
sion is  indeed  to  be  made  for  them  by  parliament :  but  in 
the  Inquiry  before  us,  which  is  only  vvrhat  charge  Is  brought 
on  the  publick  by  interest  paid  or  to  be  paid  for  money  bor- 
rowed, the  utmost  that  the  author  should  do,  is  to  bring  into 
the  account  the  full  interest  for  all  that  money.  This  he  has 
done  in  p.  15  -,  and  he  repeats  it  in  p.  18,  the  very  page  I 
am  now  examining,  £.  2,614,892.  To  comprehend  after- 
wards in  the  peace  establishment  the  deficiency  of  the  fund 
created  for  payment  of  that  interest,  would  be  laying  twice 
to  the  account  of  the  war  part  of  the  same  sum.  Suppose 
ten  millions  borrowed  at  4)  per  cent,  and  the  fund  for  payment 
of  the  interest  to  produce  no  more  than  £.  200,000.  The 
whole  annual  charge  on  the  publick  is  £.  400,000.  It  can 
be  no  more.  But  to  charge  the  interest  In  one  part  of  the  ac- 
count, and  then  the  deficiency  in  the  other,  would  be  charging 
£.  600,000.  The  deficiency  of  funds  must  therefore  be 
also  deducted  from  the  peace  establishment  in  the  Consider- 
ations ;  and  then  the  peace  establishment  in  that  author  will 
be  reduced  to  the  same  articles  with  those  included  in  the 
sum  I  have  already  mentioned  for  the  peace  establishment 
before  the  last  war,  in  the  year  1753,  and  1754. 


248  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

£■  _ 

Peace  establishment  in  the  Considerations  SfiOdylO^ 

Deduct  deficiency  of  land  and  malt         300,000 
Ditto  of  funds         .        -        -        -     202,4-00 

502,4.0a 


3,107,300 
Peace  establishment  before  the  late  war,  in  which 
no  deficiencies  of  land  and  malt,  or  funds  are 
included         ---___        2,346,594 

/  .  

Difference  £.  760,706 


Being  about  half  the  sum  which  our  author  has  been  pleased 

to  suppose  it. 
Let  us  put  the  whole  together.     The  author 

states, 

DiflFerence   of  peace  establishment  before  and 

since  the  war         -         _         -         _         -  1,500,000 

Interest  of  debt  contracted  by  the  war       -  2,61 4,892 


The  real  difference  in  the  peace  es- 
tablishment Is         -         -         -  .760,706 

The  actual  interest  of  the  funded 
debt,  including  that  charged  on 
the  sinking  fund  2,3 1 5,642 

The  actual  interest  of 

unfunded  debt  at  most      1 60,000 


4,114,892 


Total  interest  of  debt  contracted  by 

the  war         -         .         -         -        2,475,642 


Increase  of  peace  establishments,  and  interest 

of  new  debt 3,236,348 


Errour  of  the  author         £.  878,544 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  24-9 

It  is  true,  the  extraordinaries  of  the  army  have  been  found 
considerably  greater  than  the  author  of  the  Considerations 
was  pleased  to  foretel  they  would  be.  The  author  of  The 
Present  State  avails  himself  of  that  increase,  and,  finding  it 
suit  his  purpose,  sets  the  whole  down  in  the  peace  establish- 
ment of  the  present  times.  If  this  is  allowed  him,  his  errour 
perhaps  may  be  reduced  to  £.  700,000.  But  I  doubt  the 
author  of  the  Considerations  will  not  thank  him  for  admit- 
ting £.  200,000  and  upwards,  as  the  peace  establishment  for 
extraordinaries,  when  that  author  has  so  much  laboured  to 
confine  them  within  £.  35,000. 

These  are  some  of  the  capital  fallacies  of  the  author.  To 
break  the  thread  of  my  discourse  as  little  as  possible,  I  have 
thrown  into  the  margin  many  instances,  though  God  knows 
far  from  the  whole,  of  his  inaccuracies,  inconsistencies,  and 
want  of  common  care.  I  think  myself  obliged  to  take  some 
notice  of  them,  in  order  to  take  off  from  any  authority  this 
writer  may  have  ;  and  to  put  an  end  to  the  deference  which 
careless  men  are  apt  to  pay  to  one  who  boldly  arrays  his  ac- 
counts, and  marshals  his  figures,  in  perfect  coufidence  that 
their  correctness  will  never  be  examined.* 

*  Upon  the  money  borrowed  in  1760,  the  ^revmnm  oi  one  per  cent. 
was  for  21  years,  not  for  20  ;  this  annuity  has  been  paid  eight  years  instead 
of  seven;  the  sum  paid  is  therefore  ^^.640,000  instead  of  560,000;  the  re- 
maining term  is  worth  10  years  and  a  quarter  instead  of  1 1  years  ;*  its  va'ue 
is  .^.820,000  instead  of  £.880,000;  and  the  whole  value  of  that  premium  is 
£.1,460,000;  instead  of  £.1,440,000.  The  like  errours  are  observable  in  his 
computation  on  the  additional  capital  of  three  per  cent,  on  the  loan  of  that 
year.  In  like  manner,  on  the  loan  of  1762,  the  author  computes  on  five 
years  payment  instead  of  six  ;  and  says  in  express  terms,  that  take  5  from  1 9, 
and  there  remains  13.  These  are  not  errours  of  the  pen  or  the  press;  the 
several  computations  pursued  in  this  part  of  the  work  with  great  diligence 
and  earnestness  prove  them  errours  upon  much  deliberation.  Thus  the  pre- 
miums in  1759  are  cast  up  £.90,000  too  little,  an  errour  in  the  first  rule  of 
arithmetic.  "  The  amnuities  borrowed  in  1756  and  1758  are,"  says  he,"  to 
continue  till  redeemed  by  parliament."  He  does  not  take  notice  that  the 
first  are  irredeemable  till  February  1771,  the  other  till  July  1782.  In  this 
the  amount  of  the  premiums  is  computed  on  the  time  which  they  have  run. 
Weakly  and  ignorantly ;  for  he  might  have  added  to  this,  and  strengthened 
liis  argument,  such  as  it  is,  by  charging  also  the  value  of  the  additional  one 

*  See  Smart  and  Demoivre. 

VOT..    I.  K  K 


250  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

However,  for  argument,  I  am  content  to  take  his  state  of 
it.  The  debt  was  and  is  enormous.  The  war  was  expen- 
sive. The  best  economy  had  not  perhaps  been  used.  But 
I  must  observe,  that  war  and  economy  are  things  not  easily 
reconciled  5  and  that  the  attempt  of  leaning  towards  parsi- 
mony in  such  a  state  may  be  the  worst  management,  and  in 
the  end  the  worst  economy  in  the  world,  hazarding  the  total 
loss  of  all  the  charge  incurred,  and  of  every  thing  along 
with  it. 

But  cui  bono  all  this  detail  of  our  debt  ?  has  the  author 
given  a  single  light  towards  any  material  reduction  of  it  ^ 
Not  a  glimmering.  We  shall  see  in  its  place  what  sort  of 
thing  he  proposes.  But  before  he  commences  his  operations, 
in  order  to  scare  the  publick  imagination,  he  raises  by  art 
.magick  a  thick  mist  before  our  eyes,  through  which  glare  the 
most  ghastly  and  horrible  phantoms  : 

Hunc  igitur  terrorem  animi  tenebrasque  necesse  est, 
Non  radii  solis,  neqiie  lucida  tela  diet 
Discuiiant,  sed  natura  species  ratioque. 

Let  us  therefore  calmly,  if  we  can  for  the  fright  into  which 
he  has  put  us,  appreciate  those  dreadful  and  deformed  gor- 
gons  and  hydras,  which  inhabit  the  joyless  regions  of  an 
imagination,  fruitful  in  nothing  but  the  production  of  monsters. 
His  whole  representation  is  founded  on  the  supposed  oper- 
ation of  our  debt,  upon  our  manufactures,  and  our  trade. 
To  this  cause  he  attributes  a  certain  supposed  dearness  of  the 
necessaries  of  life,  which  must  compel  our  manufacturers  to 
emigrate  to  cheaper  countries,  particularly  to  France,  and 

per  cent Arom  the  day  on  which  he  wrote  to,  at  least  that  day  on  which  these 
annuities  become  redeemable.  To  make  ample  amends,  however,  he  has  ad- 
ded to  the  premiums  of  \5 per  cent,  in  1759,  and  three  per  cent,  in  1760,  the 
annuity  paid  for  them  since  their  commencement ;  the  fallacy  of  which  is 
manifest ;  for  the  premiums  in  these  cases  can  be  neither  more  nor  less  than 
the  additional  capital  for  which  the  publick  stands  engaged,  and  is  just  the 
same  whether  five  or  500  years  annuity  has  been  paid  for  it.  In  private  life, 
no  man  persuades  himself  that  he  has  borrowed  £.200,  because  he  happens  to 
hive  paid  20  years  interest  on  loan  of  ;^.100. 


I 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  25 1 


with  them  the  manufacture.  Thence  consumption  declining, 
and  with  it  revenue.  He  will  not  permit  the  real  balance  of 
our  trade  to  be  estimated  so  high  as  £.  2,500,000  j  and  the 
interest  of  the  debt  to  foreigners  carries  off  £.  1,500,000  of 
that  balance.  France  is  not  in  the  same  condition.  Then 
follow  his  wailings  and  lamentings,  which  he  renews  over  and 
over,  according  to  his  custom — a  declining  trade,  and  de- 
creasing specie — on  the  point  of  becoming  tributary  to 
France — of  losing  Ireland — of  having  the  colonies  torn  away 
from  us. 

The  first  thing  upon  which  I  shall  observe  is,*  what  he 
takes  for  granted  as  the  clearest  of  all  propositions,  the  emi- 
gration of  our  manufacturers  to  France.  I  undertake  to  say 
that  this  assertion  is  totally  groundless,  and  I  challenge  the 
author  to  bring  any  sort  of  proof  of  it.  If  living  is  cheaper 
in  France,  that  is,  to  be  had  for  less  specie,  wages  are  pro- 
portionably  lower.  No  manufacturer,  let  the  living  be  what 
it  will,  was  ever  known  to  fly  for  refuge  to  low  wages.  Mo- 
ney is  the  first  thing  which  attracts  him.  Accordingly  our 
wages  attract  artificers  from  all  parts  of  the  world.  From 
two  shillings  to  one  shilling,  is  a  fall,  in  all  mens  imaginations, 
which  no  calculation  upon  a  difference  in  the  price  of  the 
necessaries  of  life  can  compensate.  But  it  will  be  hard  to 
prove,  that  a  French  artificer  is  better  fed,  cloathed,  lodged, 
and  warmed,  than  one  in  England  ;  for  that  is  the  sense,  and 
the  only  sense,  of  living  cheaper.  If,  in  truth  and  fact,  our 
artificer  fares  as  well  in  all  these  respects  as  one  in  the  same 
state  in  France — ^how  stands  the  matter  in  point  of  opinion 
and  prejudice,  the  springs  by  which  people  in  that  class  of 
life  are  chiefly  actuated  ?  The  idea  of  our  common  people, 
concerning  French  living,  is  dreadful  •,  altogether  as  dreadful 
as  our  author's  can  possibly  be  of  the  state  of  his  own  coun- 
try ;  a  way  of  thinking  that  will  hardly  ever  prevail  on  them 
to  desert  to  France.f 

*  P.  30,  31,  32. 
f  In  a  course  of  years  a  few  manufacturers  have  been  tempted  abroad, 
not  by  cheap  living,  but  by  immense  premiums,  to  set  up  as  masters,  and  to 
introduce  the  manufacture.  This  must  happen  in  every  country  eminent 
for  the  skill  of  its  artificers,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with  taxes  and  the  price 
•f  provisions. 


252 


OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 


But,  leaving  the  author's  speculations,  the  fact  is,  that  they 
have  not  deserted  j  and  of  course  the  manufacture  cannot 
be  departed,  or  departing,  with  them.  I  am  not  indeed  able 
to  get  at  all  the  details  of  our  manufactures  -,  though,  I  think, 
I  have  taken  full  as  much  pains  for  that  purpose  as  our  au- 
thor. Some  I  have  by  me  ;  and  they  do  not  hitherto,  thank 
God,  support  the  author's  complaint,  unless  a  vast  increase  of 
the  quantity  of  goods  manufactured  be  a  proof  of  losing  the 
manufacture.  On  a  view  of  the  registers  in  the  Westriding 
of  Yorkshire,  for  three  years  before  the  war,  and  for  the 
three  last,  it  appears,  that  the  quantities  of  cloths  entered 
were  as  follow  ; 


Pieces  broad. 

Pieces  narrow. 

1752. 

60,724^ 

72,442 

1753. 

55,358 

71,618 

1754-. 

56,070 

72,394 

172,152 


216,454 


I'ieces  broad. 

Pieces  narrow. 

1765. 

-     54,660     ■ 

-     77,419 

1766. 

-     72,575     - 

■     78,893 

1767. 

-  102,428     - 

.     78,819 

S  years,  ending  1767,     -  229,663 
3  years,  ending  1754,     -   172,152 


Increase,    57,511 


-  235,131 

-  216,454 

-  18,677 


In  this  manner  this  capital  branch  of  manufacture  has  in- 
creased, under  the  increase  of  taxes ;  and  this  not  from  a 
declining,  but  from  a  greatly  flourishing  period  of  commerce. 
I  may  say  the  same  on  the  best  authority  of  the  fabrick  of 
thin  goods  at  Halifax  ;  of  the  bays  at  Rochdale ;  and  of  that 
infinite  variety  of  admirable  manafactures  that  grow  and  ex- 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  258 

tend  every  year  among  the  spirited,  inventive,  and  enterpris- 
ing traders  of  Manchester. 

A  trade  sometimes  seems  to  perish  when  it  only  assumes  a 
different  form.  Thus  the  coarsest  woollens  were  formerly 
exported  in  great  quantities  to  Russia.  The  Russians  now 
supply  themselves  with  these  goods.  But  the  export  thither 
of  finer  cloths  has  increased  in  proportion  as  the  other  has 
declined.  Possibly  some  parts  of  the  kingdom  may  have 
felt  something  like  a  languor  in  business.  Objects  like  trade 
and  manufacture,  which  the  very  attempt  to  confine  would 
certainly  destroy,  frequently  change  their  place  5  and  there- 
by, far  from  being  lost,  are  often  highly  improved.  Thus 
some  manufactures  have  decayed  in  the  west  and  south, 
which  have  made  new  and  more  vigorous  shoots  when  trans- 
planted into  the  north.  And  here  it  is  impossible  to  pass 
by,  though  the  author  has  said  nothing  upon  it,  the  vast  ad- 
dition to  the  mass  of  British  trade,  which  has  been  made  by 
the  improvement  of  Scotland.  What  does  he  think  of  the 
commerce  of  the  city  of  Glasgow,  and  of  the  manufactures 
of  Paisley  and  all  the  adjacent  country  ?  has  this  any  thing 
like  the  deadly  aspect  and  fades  Hippocratica  which  the  false 
diagnostick  of  our  state  physician  has  given  to  our  trade  in 
general  ?  has  he  not  heard  of  the  iron  works  of  such  mag- 
nitude even  in  their  cradle  which  are  set  up  on  the  Carron, 
and  which  at  the  same  time  have  drawn  nothing  from  Shef- 
field, Birmingham,  or  Wolverhampton  ? 

This  might  perhaps  be  enough  to  shew  the  entire  falsity  of 
the  complaint  concerning  the  decline  of  our  manufactures. 
But  every  step  we  advance,  this  matter  clears  up  more  ;  and 
the  false  terrours  of  the  author  are  dissipated,  and  fade  away 
as  the  light  appears.  "  The  trade  and  manufactures  of  this 
country  (says  he)  going  to  ruin,  and  a  diminution  of  our  rev- 
enue from  consumption  must  attend  the  loss  of  so  many  sea- 
men and  artificers."  Nothing  more  true  than  the  general 
observation:  nothing  more  false  than  its  application  to  our 
circumstances.  Let  the  revenue  on  consumption  speak  for 
itself : 


254-  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Average  of  net  excise,  since  the  new  duties,  three 

years  ending  1767,         -         -         -         _         4,590,734- 

Ditto  before  the  new  duties,  three  years  ending 

1759, 3,261,694- 


Average  increase,     £.  1,329,040 


Here  is  no  diminution.  Here  is,  on  the  contrary,  an  im- 
mense increase.  This  is  owing,  I  shall  be  told,  to  the  new 
duties,  which  may  increase  the  total  bulk,  but  at  the  same 
time  may  make  some  diminution  of  the  produce  of  the  old. 
Were  this  the  fact,  it  would  be  far  from  supporting  the  au- 
thor's complaint.  It  inight  have  proved  that  the  burthen  lay 
rather  too  heavy ;  but  it  would  never  prove  that  the  revenue 
from  consumption  was  impaired,  which  it  was  his  business  to 
do.  But  what  is  the  real  fact  ?  Let  us  take,  as  the  best  in- 
stance for  the  purpose,  the  produce  of  the  old  hereditary  and 
temporary  excise  granted  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond, whose  object  is  that  of  most  of  the  new  impositions, 
from  two  averages,  each  of  eight  years. 

Average,  first  period,  eight  years,  ending  1754,       525,317 
Ditto,  second  period,  eight  years  ending  1767,         538,542 


Increase,     j^.  13,225 


I  have  taken  these  averages  as  including  in  each  a  war  and  a 
peace  period  ;  the  first  before  the  imposition  of  the  new 
duties,  the  other  since  those  Impositions  ;  and  such  Is  the 
state  of  the  oldest  branch  of  the  revenue  from  consumption. 
Besides  the  acquisition  of  so  much  new,  this  article,  to  speak 
of  no  other,  has  rather  increased  under  the  pressure  of  all 
those  additional  taxes  to  which  the  author  is  pleased  to  at- 
tribute Its  destruction.  But  as  the  author  has  made  his  grand 
effort  against  those  moderate,  judicious,  and  necessary  levies. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  255 

which  support  all  the  dignity,  the  credit,  and  the  power  of 
his  country,  the  reader  will  excuse  a  little  further  detail  on 
this  subject  ;  that  we  may  see  how  little  oppressive  those 
taxes  are  on  the  shoulders  of  the  publick,  with  which  he  la- 
bours so  earnestly  to  load  its  imagination.  For  this  purpose 
we  take  the  state  of  that  specifick  article  upon  which  the  two 
capital  burthens  of  the  war  leaned  the  most  immediately,  by 
the  additional  duties  on  malt,  and  upon  beer. 

Barrels. 
Average  of  strong  beer,  brewed  in  eight  years 

before  the  additional  malt  and  beer  duties,  3,895,059 

Average  of  strong  beer,  eight    years  since  the 

duties, 4,060,726 


Increase  in  the  last  period,     165,667 


Here  is  the  effect  of  two  such  daring  taxes  as  Sd.  by  the 
bushel  additional  on  malt,  and  3j-.  by  the  barrel  additional 
on  beer.  Two  impositions  laid  without  remission  one  upon 
the  neck  of  the  other  j  and  laid  upon  an  object  which  be- 
fore had  been  immensely  loaded.  They  did  not  in  the  least 
impair  the  consumption  :  it  has  grown  under  them.  It  ap- 
pears that,  upon  the  whole,  the  people  did  not  feel  so  much 
inconvenience  from  the  new  duties  as  to  oblige  them  to  take 
refuge  in  the  private  brewery.  Quite  the  contrary  happened 
in  both  these  respects  in  the  reign  of  King  William  ;  and  it 
happened  from  much  slighter  impositions*.  No  people  can 
long  consume  a  commodity  for  which  they  are  not  well  able 
to  pay.     An  enlightened  reader   laughs  at  the  inconsistent 

•  Although  the  publick  brewery  has  considerably  increased  in  this  latter 
period,  the  produce  of  the  malt  tax  has  been  something  less  than  in  the 
former ;  this  cannot  be  attributed  to  the  new  malt  tax.  Had  this  been  the 
cause  of  the  lessened  consumption,  the  publick  brewery,  so  much  morebur- 
thened,  must  have  felt  it  more.  The  cause  of  this  diminution  of  the  malt 
tax,  I  take  to  have  been  principally  owing  to  the  greater  dearness  of  corn 
in  the  second  period  than  in  the  first,  which,  in  all  its  consequences,  affected 
the  people  iu  the  country  much  more  than  those  in  the  towns.  Eut  the  rev- 
enue from  consumption  was  not  on  the  wI;ole  impaired,  as  we  have  sees 
in  the  foregoing  pa^e. 


256  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  I.ATE 

chimera  of  our  author,  of  a  people  universally  luxurious,  and 
at  the  same  time  oppressed  with  taxes  and  declining  in  trade. 
For  my  part,  I  cannot  look  on  these  duties  as  the  author  does. 
He  sees  nothing  but  the  burthen.  I  can  perceive  the  bur- 
then as  well  he  ;  but  I  cannot  avoid  contemplating  also  the 
strength  that  supports  it.  From  thence  I  draw  the  most 
comfortable  assurances  of  the  future  vigour,  and  the  ample 
resources,  of  this  great  misrepresented  country ;  and  can  nev- 
er prevail  on  myself  to  make  complaints  which  have  no 
cause,  in  order  to  raise  hopes  which  have  no  foundation. 

When  a  representation  is  built  on  truth  and  nature,  one 
member  supports  the  other,  and  mutual  lights  are  given  and 
received  from  every  part.  Thus,  as  our  manufacturers  have 
not  deserted,  nor  the  manufacture  left  us,  nor  the  consump- 
tion declined,  nor  the  revenue  sunk  j  so  neither  has  trade, 
which  Is  at  once  the  result,  measure,  and  cause  of  the  whole, 
in  the  least  decayed,  as  our  author  has  thought  proper  some- 
times to  affirm,  constantly  to  suppose,  as  if  it  were  the  most 
indisputable  of  all  propositions.  The  reader  will  see  below 
the  comparative    state  of  our  trade*  in  three  of  the   best 


*  Total  imports,  value, 

Exports,  ditto. 

c 

£- 

1752.             -          7,889,369 

11,694,912 

1753.             -          8,625,029 

12,243,604 

1754.              -          8,093,472 

11,787,828 

Total,      £.  21,607,870  -  35,726,344 
24,607,870 


Exports  exceed  imports,         11,118,474 


Medium  balance, 

£.3,706,158 

1764. 

10,319,946 

16,164,532 

1765. 

10,889,742 

14,550,507 

1766. 

11,475,825 

14,024,964 

Total,     £.32,685,513  -  44,740,003 
32,685,513 


Exports  exceed,         -  12,054,490 


Medium  balance  for  three  last  years,        £.  4,01 8,1 6S 


STATE  OF  TriE  NATION.  257 

years  before  our  increase  of  debt  and  taxes,  and  with   it  the 
three  last  years  since  the  author's  date  of  our  ruin. 

In  the  last  three  years  the  whole  of  our  exports  was  between 
44-  and  45  millions.  In  the  three  years  preceding  the  war,  it 
was  no  more  than  from  35  to  36  millions.  The  averagre 
balance  of  the  former  period  was  £.  3,706,000  ;  of  the  lat- 
ter, something  above  four  millions.  It  is  true,  that  whilst 
the  impressions  of  the  author's  destructive  war  continued, 
our  trade  was  greater  than  it  is  at  present.  One  of  the  nec- 
essary consequences  of  the  peace  was,  that  France  must  grad- 
ually recover  a  part  of  those  markets  of  which  she  had  been 
originally  in  possession.  However,  after  all  these  deduc- 
tions, still  the  gross  trade  in  the  worst  year  of  the  present  is 
better  than  in  the  best  year  of  any  former  period  of  peace. 
A  very  great  part  of  our  taxes,  if  not  the  greatest,  has  been 
imposed  since  the  beginning  of  the  century.  On  the  au- 
thor's principles,  this  continual  increase  of  taxes  must  have 
ruined  our  trade,  or  at  least  entirely  checked  its  growth.  But 
I  have  a  manuscript  of  Davenant,  which  contains  an  abstract 
of  our  trade  for  the  years  1703  and  1704 ;  by  which  it  ap- 
pears, that  the  whole  export  from  England  did  not  then  ex- 
ceed £.  6,552,019.  It  is  now  considerably  more  than 
double  that  amount.  Yet  England  was  then  a  rich  and  flour- 
ishing nation. 

The  author  endeavours  to  derogate  from  the  balance  in 
our  favour  as  it  stands  on  the  entries,  and  reduces  it  from 
four  millions  as  it  there  appears  to  no  more  than  ^.2,500,000. 
His  observation  on  the  looseness  and  inaccuracy  of  the  ex- 
port entries  is  just ;  and  that  the  errour  is  always  an  errour 
of  excess,  I  readily  admit.  But  because,  as  usual,  he  has 
wholly  omitted  some  very  material  facts,  his  conclusion  is  as 
erroneous  as  the  entries  he  complains  of. 

On  this  point  of  the  custom-house  entries  I  shall  make  a 
few  observations.  Ist,  The  inaccuracy  of  these  entries  can 
extend  only  to  Free  Goods,  that  is,  to  such  British  products 
and  manufactures,  as  are  exported  without  drawback  and 
without  bounty  j  which  do  not  in  general  amount  to  more 
than  two-thirds  at  the  very  utmost  of  the  whole  export  even 
of  our  home  products.     The  valuable  articles   of  corn,  malt, 

Vol.  I.  L  L 


258  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

leather,  hops,  beer,  and  many  others,  do  not  come  under 
this  objection  of  inaccuracy.     The  article  of  Certificate 
Goods  re-exported,  a  vast  branch  of  our  commerce,  admits 
of  no  errour  (except   some  smaller   frauds   which  cannot  be 
estimated),  as  they  have  all  a  drawback  of  duty,  and  the  ex- 
porter  must   therefore   correctly  specify  their  quantity  and 
kind.    The  author  therefore  is  not  warranted  from  the  known 
errour  in  some  of  the  entries,  to  make  a  general  defalcation 
from  the  whole  balance  in  our   favour.     This  errour  cannot 
affect   more  than  half,  if  so  much,  of  the  export  article. 
2dly,  In  the  account  made  up  at  the  inspector  general's  of-  . 
fice,  they  estimate  only  the  .original  cost  of  British  products 
as  they  are  here  purchased  ;  and  on  foreign  goods,  only  the 
prices  in  the  country  from  whence  they  are  sent.     This  was 
the  method  established  by  Mr.  Davenant  j  and,  as  far  as  it 
goes,  it  certainly  is  a  good  one.     But  the  profits  of  the  mer- 
chant at  home,  and  of  our  factories  abroad,  are  not  taken  in- 
to the  account :  which  profit  on  such  an  immense   quantity 
of  goods  exported  and  re-exported  cannot  fail  of  being  very 
great  :  five  per  cent,   upon  the  whole,  I  should  think   a  very 
moderate  allowance.     3dly,  It  does  not  comprehend  the  ad- 
vantage arising  from  the   employment  of  600,000  tons  of 
shipping,  which  must  be  paid  by  the  foreign  consumer,  and 
which,  in  many  bulky  articles  of  commerce,  is  equal  to  the 
value  of  the  commodity.     This  can  scarcely  be  rated  at  less 
than  a  million   annually.     4thly,  The   whole   import  from 
Ireland  and   America,  and   from  the  West  Indies,  is  set  a- 
gainst  us  in  the   ordinary  way  of  striking  a  balance   of  im- 
ports and  exports  ;  whereas  the  import  and  export  are  both 
our  own.     This  is  just  as  ridiculous,  as  to  put   against  the 
general  balance  of  the  nation,  how  much  more  goods  Chesh- 
ire receives  from  London,    than   London    from  Cheshire. 
The  whole  revolves  and  circulates  through  this  kingdom,  and 
is,  so  far  as  it  regards  our  profit,  in  the  nature  of  home  trade, 
as  much  as  if  the  several  countries  of  America  and  Ireland 
were  all  pieced  to  Cornwall.     The  course  of  exchange  with 
all  these  places  is  fully  suificient    to  demonstrate  that    this 
kingdom  has  the  whole  advantage  of  their  commerce.  When 
the  final  profit  upon  a  whole  system  of  trade  rests  and  cen- 


STAtE  OF  THE  NATION.  259 

ters  in  a  certain  place,  a  balance  struck  in  that  place  merely 
on  the  mutual  sale  of  commodities  is  quite  fallacious.  5thly, 
The  custom-house  entries  furnish  a  most  defective,  and  in- 
deed ridiculous  idea,  of  the  most  valuable  branch  of  trade  we 
have  in  the  virorld,  that  with  Newfoundland.  Observe  what 
you  export  thither ;  a  little  spirits,  provision,  fishing  lines, 
and  fishing  hooks.  Is  this  export  the  true  idea  of  the  New- 
foundland trade  in  the  light  of  a  beneficial  branch  of  com- 
merce .''  nothing  less.  Examine  our  imports  from  thence  ; 
it  seems,  upon  this  vulgar  idea  of  exports  and  imports,  to 
turn  the  balance  against  you.  But  your  exports  to  New- 
foundland are  your  own  goods.  Your  import  is  your  own 
food ;  as  much  your  own,  as  that  you  raise  with  your  ploughs 
out  of  your  own  soil ;  and  not  your  loss,  but  your  gain  ; 
your  riches,  not  y©ur  poverty.  But  so  fallacious  is  this  way 
of  judging,  that  neither  the  export  nor  import,  nor  both 
together,  supply  any  idea  approaching  to  adequate  of  that 
branch  of  business.  The  vessels  in  that  trade  go  straight  from 
Newfoundland  to  the  foreign  market ;  and  the  sale  there, 
not  the  import  here,  is  the  measure  of  its  value.  That  trade 
which  is  one  of  your  greatest  and  best  is  hardly  so  much  as 
seen  in  the  custom-house  entries  ;  and  it  is  not  of  less  annual 
value  to  this  nation  than  £.  400,000.  6thly,  The  quality  of 
your  imports  must  be  considered  as  well  as  the  quantity. 
To  state  the  whole  of  the  foreign  import  as  loss^  is  exceed- 
ingly absurd.  All  the  iron,  hemp,  flax,  cotton,  Spanish 
wool,  raw  silk,  woollen  and  linen  yarn,  which  we  import,  are 
by  no  means  to  be  considered  as  the  matter  of  a  merely  lux- 
urious consumption;  which  is  the  idea  too  generally  and 
loosely  annexed  to  our  import  article.  These  above-men- 
tioned are  materials  of  industry,  not  of  luxury,  which  are 
wrought  up  here,  in  many  instances,  to  ten  times,  and  more, 
of  their  original  value.  Even  where  they  are  not  subservi- 
ent to  our  exports,  they  still  add  to  our  internal  wealth, 
which  consists  in  the  stock  of  useful  commodities,  as  much  as 
in  gold  and  silver.  In  looking  over  the  specifick  articles  of 
our  export  and  import,  I  have  often  been  astonished  to  see 
for  how  small   a  part  of  the  supply  of  our  consumption,   ei- 


260  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

ther   luxurious  or  convenient,  we  arc  indebted  to  nations 
properly  foreign  to  us. 

These  considerations  are  entirely  passed  over  by  the  au- 
thor ;  they  have  been  but  too  much  neglected  by  most  who 
have  speculated  on  this  subject.  But  they  ought  never  to  be 
omitted  by  those  who  mean  to  come  to  any  thing  like  the  true 
state  of  the  British  trade.  They  compensate,  and  they 
more  than  compensate,  every  thing  which  the  author  can  cut 
off  with  any  appearance  of  reason  for  the  over-entry  of  Brit- 
ish goods  J  and  they  restore  to  us  that  balance  of  four  mil- 
lions, which  the  author  has  thought  proper  on  such  a  very 
poor  and  limited  comprehension  of  the  object  to  reduce  to 
^.  2,500,000. 

In  general  this  author  is  so  circumstanced,  that  to  support 
his  theory  he  is  obliged  to  assume  his  facts  :  and  then,  if 
you  allow  his  facts,  they  will  not  support  his  conclusions. 
What  if  all  he  says  of  the  state  of  this  balance  were  true  ? 
did  not  the  same  objections  always  lie  to  custom-house  en- 
tries ?  do  they  defalcate  more  from  the  entries  of  1766  than 
from  those  of  1754!  ?  If  they  prove  us  ruined,  we  were  al- 
ways ruined.  Some  ravens  have  always  indeed  croaked  out 
this  kind  of  song.  They  have  a  malignant  delight  in  pre- 
saging mischief,  when  they  are  not  employed  in  doing  it : 
they  are  miserable  and  disappointed  at  every  instance  of  the 
publick  prosperity.  They  overlook  us  like  the  malevolent 
being  of  the  poet : 

Tritonida  conspicit  arcem 
Ifigeniis,  opibusquey  et  festa  pace  vlrentem ; 
Vixque  tenet  lacrymas  quia  nil  lacrymabile  cernit. 

It  is  in  this  spirit  that  some  have  looked  upon  those  acci- 
dents that  cast  an  occasional  damp  upon  trade.  Their  imag- 
inations entail  these  accidents  upon  us  in  perpetuity.  We 
have  had  some  bad  harvests.  This  must  very  disadvantage- 
ously  affect  the  balance  of  trade,  and  the  navigation  of  a 
people,  so  large  a  part  of  whose  commerce  is  in  grain.  But, 
in  knowing  the  cause,  we  are  morally  certain,  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  course  of  events,  it  cannot  long  subsist.     In  the 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  ^gl 

three  last  years,  we  have  exported  scarcely  any  grain ;  in 
good  years,  that  export  hath  been  worth  twelve  hundred 
thousand  pounds  and  more ;  in  the  two  last  years,  far  from 
exporting,  we  have  been  obliged  to  import  to  the  amount 
perhaps  of  our  former  exportation.  So  that  in  this  article 
the  balance  must  be  £.  2,000,000  against  us ;  that  is,  one 
million  in  the  ceasing  of  gain,  the  other  in  the  increase  of 
expenditure.  But  none  of  the  author's  promises  or  projects 
could  have  prevented  this  misfortune  ;  and,  thank  God,  "we 
do  not  want  him  or  them  to  relieve  us  from  it ;  although, 
if  his  friends  should  now  come  into  power,  I  doubt  not  but 
they  will  be  ready  to  take  credit  for  any  increase  of  trade  or 
excise,  that  may  arise  from  the  happy  circumstance  of  a  good 
harvest. 

This  connects  with  his  loud  laments  and  melancholy  prog- 
nostications concerning  the  high  price  of  the  necessaries 
of  life  and  the  products  of  labour.  With  all  his  others,  I 
deny  this  fact ;  and  I  again  call  upon  him  to  prove  it.  Take 
average  and  not  accident,  the  grand  and  first  necessary  of 
life  is  cheap  in  this  country ;  and  that  too  as  weighed,  not 
against  labour,  which  is  its  true  counterpoise,  but  against  mon- 
ey. Does  he  call  the  price  of  wheat  at  this  day,  between 
32  and  40  shillings  per  quarter  in  London,  dear  ?*  He  must 
know  that  fuel  (an  object  of  the  highest  order  in  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  and  of  the  first  necessity  in  almost  every  kind 
of  manufacture)  is  in  many  of  our  provinces  cheaper  than  in 
any  part  of  the  globe.  Meat  is  on  the  whole  not  excessive- 
ly dear,  whatever  its  price  may  be  at  particular  times  and 
from  particular  accidents.  If  it  has  had  any  thing  like  an 
uniform  rise,  this  enhancement  may  easily  be  proved  not  to 
be  owing  to  the  increase  of  taxes,  but  to  uniform  increase 
of  consumption  and  of  money.  Diminish  the  latter,  and 
meat  in  your  markets  will  be  sufiiciently  cheap  in  account, 
but  much  dearer  in  effect :  because  fewer  will  be  in  a  condi- 
tion to  buy.  Thus  your  apparent  plenty  will  be  real  indig- 
ence.    At  present,  even  under  temporary  disadvantages,  the 

*  It  is  dearer  in  some  places,  and  rather  cheaper  in  others ;  but  It  must 
»oon  all  come  to  a  level. 


262 


OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 


use  of  flesh  Is  greater  here  than  any  where  else  ;  it  is  con- 
tinued without  any  interruption  of  Lents  or  meagre  days ; 
it  is  sustained  and  growing  even  with  the  increase  of  our 
taxes.  But  some  have  the  art  of  converting  even  the  signs 
of  national  prosperity  into  symptoms  of  decay  and  ruin. 
And  our  author,  who  so  loudly  disclaims  popularity,  never 
fails  to  lay  hold  of  the  most  vulgar  popular  prejudices  and 
humours,  in  hopes  to  captivate  the  crowd.  Even  those 
peevish  dispositions  which  grow  out  of  some  transitory  suf- 
fering, those  passing  clouds  which  float  in  our  changeable  at- 
mosphere -y  are  by  him  industriously  figured  into  frightful 
shapes,  in  order  first  to  terrify  and  then  to  govern  the  popu- 
lace. 

It  was  not  enough  for  the  author's  purpose  to  give  this 
false  and  discouraging  picture  of  the  state  of  his  own  coun- 
try. It  did  not  fully  answer  his  end,  to  exaggerate  her  bur- 
thens, to  depreciate  her  successes,  and  to  vilify  her  character. 
Nothing  had  been  done,  unless  the  situation  of  France  were 
exalted  in  proportion  as  that  of  England  had  been  abased. 
The  reader  will  excuse  the  citation  I  make  at  length  from 
his  book  ;  he  out-does  himself  upon  this  occasion.  His  con- 
fidence is  indeed  unparalleled,  and  altogether  of  the  heroick 
cast : 

"  If  our  rival  nations  were  in  the  same  circumstances 
with  ourselves,  the  augmentation  of  our  taxes  nvould  produce  no 
ill  consequences :  if  we  were  obliged  to  raise  our  prices,  they 
must,  from  the  same  causes,  do  the  like,  and  could  take  no 
advantage  by  under-selling  and  under-working  us.  But  the 
alarming  consideration  to  Great  Britain  is,  that  France  is  not 
in  the  same  condition.  Her  distresses,  during  the  war,  were 
great,  but  they  were  immediate  ;  her  want  of  credit,  as  has 
been  said,  compelled  her  to  impoverish  her  people,  by  rais- 
ing the  greatest  part  of  her  supplies  within  the  year  ;  but 
the  burthens  she  imposed  on  them  ivercy  in  a  great  measure,  tetn- 
poraryy  and  must  be  greatly  diminished  by  a  feiv  years  of  peace. 
She  could  procure  no  considerable  loans,  therefore  she  has 
mortgaged  no  such  oppressive  taxes  as  those  Great  Britain  has 
imposed  in  perpetuity  for  payment  of  interest.  Peace  must, 
therefore,  soon  re-establish  her  commerce  and  manufactures. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  gg^ 

especially  as  the  comparative  lightness  of  taxes y  and  the  cheap- 
ness of  living,  in  that  country,  must  make  France  an  asylum 
for  British  manufacturers  and  artificers."  On  this  the  author 
rests  the  merit  of  his  whole  system.  And  on  this  point  I 
will  join  issue  with  him.  If  France  is  not  at  least  in  the 
same  condition,  even  in  that  very  condition  which  the  author 
falsely  represents  to  be  ours,  if  the  very  reverse  of  his  prop- 
osition be  not  true,  then  I  will  admit  his  State  of  the  Na- 
tion to  be  just  i  and  all  his  inferences  from  that  state  to  be 
logical  and  conclusive.  It  is  not  surprising,  that  the  author 
should  hazard  our  opinion  of  his  veracity.  That  is  a  virtue 
on  which  great  statesmen  do  not  perhaps  pique  themselves 
so  much  :  but  it  is  somewhat  extraordinary,  that  he  should 
stake  on  a  very  poor  calculation  of  chances,  all  credit  for 
care,  for  accuracy,  and  for  knowledge  of  the  subject  of  which 
he  treats.  He  is  rash  and  inaccurate,  because  he  thinks  he 
writes  to  a  publick  ignorant  and  inattentive.  But  he  may 
find  himself  in  that  respect,  as  in  many  others,  greatly  mis- 
taken. 

In  order  to  contrast  the  light  and  vigorous  condition  of 
France  with  that  of  England,  weak,  and  sinking  under  her 
burthens,  he  states  in  his  tenth  page,  that  France  had  raised 
JT.  50,314,378  sterling  by  taxes  ivithin  the  several  years  from 
the  year  1756  to  1762  both  inclusive.  An  Englishman  must 
stand  aghast  at  such  a  representation  :  To  find  France  able 
to  raise  within  the  year  sums  little  inferiour  to  all  that  we  were 
able  even  to  borrow  on  interest  with  all  the  resources  of  the 
greatest  and  most  established  credit  in  the  world  !  Europe 
was  filled  with  astonishment  when  they  saw  England  borrow 
in  one  year  twelve  millions.  It  was  thought,  and  very  justly, 
no  small  proof  of  national  strength  and  financial  skill,  to 
find  a  fund  for  the  payment  of  the  interest  upon  this  sum. 
The  interest  of  this,  computed  with  the  one  per  cent,  annui- 
ties, amounted  only  to  £.  600,000  a  year.  This,  I  say,  was 
thought  a  surprising  effbrt  even  of  credit.  But  this  author  talks, 
as  of  a  thing  not  worth  proving,  and  but  just  worth  observing, 
that  France  in  one  year  raised  sixteen  times  that  sum  without 
borrowing,  and  continued  to  raise  sums  not  far  from  equal  to 
it  for  several  years  together.     Suppose  some  Jacob  Henriques 


264-  OBSliRVATIONS  ON  A  l.ATE 

had  proposed,  in  the  year  1762,  to  prevent  a  perpetual  charge 
on  the  nation  by  raising  ten  millions  within  the  year.  He 
would  have  been  considered,  not  as  a  harsh  financier,  who 
laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  publick ;  but  as  a  poor  visionary, 
who  had  run  mad  on  supplies  and  taxes.  They  who  know 
that  the  whole  land  tax  of  England,  at  4j.  in  the  pound, 
raises  but  two  millions ;  will  not  easily  apprehend  that  any 
such  sums  as  the  author  has  conjured  up  can  be  raised  even 
in  the  most  opulent  nations.  France  owed  a  large  debt,  and 
was  encumbered  with  heavy  establishments,  before  that  war. 
The  author  does  not  formally  deny  that  she  borrowed  some- 
thing in  every  year  of  its  continuance ;  let  him  produce  the 
funds  for  this  astonishing  annual  addition  to  all  her  vast  pre- 
ceding taxes,  an  addition  equal  to  the  whole  excise,  customs, 
land  and  malt  taxes  of  England  taken  together. 

But  what  must  be  the  reader's  astonishment,  perhaps  his 
indignation,  if  he  should  find  that  this  great  financier  has 
fallen  into  the  most  unaccountable  of  all  errours,  no  less  an 
errour  than  that  of  mistaking  the  idetitical  sums  borro%ved  by 
France  upon  interest,  for  supplies  raised  within  the  year.  Can 
it  be  conceived  that  any  man  only  entered  into  the  first  ru* 
diments  of  finance  should  make  so  egregious  a  blunder  ; 
should  write  it,  should  print  it  ;  should  carry  it  to  a  second 
edition  :  should  take  it  not  collaterally  and  incidentally,  but 
lay  it  down  as  the  corner-stone  of  his  whole  system,  in  such 
an  important  point  as  the  comparative  states  of  France  and 
England  ?  But  it  will  be  said,  that  it  was  his  misfortune  to 
be  ill-informed.  Not  at  all.  A  man  of  any  loose  general 
knowledge,  and  of  the  most  ordinary  sagacity,  never  could 
have  been  misinformed  in  so  gross  a  manner  ;  becuase  he 
Would  have  immediately  rejected  so  wild  and  extravagant  an 
account. 

The  fact  is  this  :  the  credit  of  France,  bad  as  it  might 
have  been,  did  enable  her  (not  to  raise  within  the  year)  but 
to  borrow  the  very  sums  the  author  mentions  j  that  is  to  say, 
1,106,916,261  livres,  making,  in  the  author's  computation, 
j^.50,314',378.  The  credit  of  France  was  low  ;  but  it  was 
not  annihilated.  She  did  not  cierive,  as  our  author  chooses 
to  assert,  any  advantages  from   the  debility  of  her    credit. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  265 

Its  consequence  was  the  natural  one  :  she  borrowed  ;  but 
she  borrowed  upon  bad  terms,  indeed  on  the  most  exorbitant 
usury. 

In  speaking  of  a  foreign  revenue,  the    very   pretence  to 
accuracy  would  be  the  most   inaccurate  thing   in  the  world. 
Neither  the  author  nor  I  can  with  certainty  authenticate  the 
information  we  communicate  to  the  publick,  nor  in  an  affair 
of  eternal  fluctuation  arrive  at  perfect  exactness.     All  we  can 
do,  and  this  we  may  be  expected  to  do,  is  to  avoid  gross  er- 
rours  and  blunders  of  a    capital  nature.     We    cannot   order 
the  proper  officer  to  lay  the  accounts  before  the  house.    But 
the  reader  must  judge  on  the  probability  of  the  accounts  we 
lay  before  him.     The  author  speaks  of  France  as  raising  her 
supplies  for  war  by  taxes  within  the  year  j  and  of  her  debt, 
as  a  thing  scarcely  worthy  of  notice.     I  affirm  that  she  bor- 
rowed large  sums  in  every  year  ;  and   has  thereby  accumu- 
lated an  immense  debt.     This  debt  continued  after   the  war 
infinitely  to  embarrass  her  affairs  ;  and  to  find  some  means 
for  its  reduction  was  then  and  has  ever  since  been  the    first 
object  of  her  poHcy.     But  she  has  so  little    succeeded  in  all 
her  efforts,  that  the  perpetual  debt  of  France  is  at  this  hour 
little  short  of  j^.  100,000,000  sterling  ;  and  she  stands  char- 
ged with  at  least  40,000,000  of  English  pounds  on  life-rents 
and  tontines.     The  annuities   paid  at  this    day  at  the   Hotel 
de  Ville  of  Paris,  which  are  by  no  means  her  sole  payments 
of  that  nature,  amount  to  139,000,000  of  hvres,  that  is,  to 
G,3 18,000  pounds  ;  besides  billets  au  porteur,  and  various  de- 
tached and  unfunded  debts,  to  a  great  amount,    and    which 
bear  an  interest. 

At  the  end  of  the  war,  the  interest  payable  on  her  debt 
amounted  to  upwards  of  seven  millions  sterling.  M.  de  la 
Verdy,  the  last  hope  of  the  French  finances,  was  called  in, 
to  aid  in  the  reduction  of  an  interest,  so  light  to  our  author, 
so  intolerably  heavy  upon  those  who  are  to  pay  it.  After 
many  imsuccessful  efforts  towards  reconciling  arbitrary  re- 
duction with  publick  credit,  he  was  obliged  to- go  the  plain 
high  road  of  power,  and  to  impose  a  tax  of  \0  per  cent,  upon 
a  very  great  part  of  the  capital  debt  of  that  kingdom  j  and 
this  measure  of  present  ease,  to  the  destruction  of  future 
Vol.  I.  Mm 


266  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

credit,  produced  about  j^. 500,000  a  year  which  was  carried 
to  their  Calsse  d'amorlissemerit  or  sinking  fund.  But  so  un- 
faithfully and  unsteadily  has  this  and  all  the  other  articles 
which  compose  that  fund  been  applied  to  their  purposes,  that 
they  have  given  the  state  but  very  little  even  of  present  re- 
lief, since  it  is  known  to  the  whole  world  that  she  is  behind- 
hand on  every  one  of  her  establishments.  Since  the  year 
1763,  there  has  been  no  operation  of  any  consequence  on 
the  French  finances  :  and  in  this  enviable  condition  is  France 
at  present  with  regard  to  her  debt. 

Every  body  knows  that  the  principal  of  the  debt  is  but  a 
name  ;  the  interest  is  the  only  thing  which  can  distress  a  na- 
tion. Take  this  idea,  which  will  not  be  disputed,  and  com- 
pare the  interest  paid  by  England  with  that  paid  by  France  : 

Interest  paid  by  France,  funded  and  unfunded, 
for  perpetuity  or  on  lives,  after  the  tax  of 
10  per  cent.  -  -  _         -  6,500,000 

Interest  paid  by  England,  as  stated  by  the  au- 
thor, p.  27         -         -         -         -      •    -  4,600,000 

Interest  paid  by  France  exceeds  that    paid    by 

England,         -         -         -         -         -  j^.  1,900,000 


The  author  cannot  complain,  that  I  state  the  interest  paid 
by  England  as  too  low.  He  takes  it  himself  as  the  extrem- 
est  term.  Nobody  who  knows  any  thing  of  the  French 
finances  will  affirm  that  I  state  the  interest  paid  by  that  king- 
dom too  high.  It  might  be  easily  proved  to  amount  to  a 
great  deal  more  :  even  this  is  near  two  millions  above  what 
is  paid  by  England. 

There  are  three  standards  to  judge  of  the  good  condition 
of  a  nation  with  regard  to  its  finances.  1st,  The  relief  of 
the  people.  2d,  The  equality  of  supplies  to  establishments. 
3d,  The  state  of  publick  credit.  Try  France  on  all  these 
standards. 

Although  our  author  very  liberally  administers  relief  to 
the  people  of  France,  its  government  has  not  been  altogether 
so  gracious.     Since  the  peace,  she  has  taken  off"  but  a  single 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  267 

vingtteme,  or  shilling  in  the  pound,  and  some  small  matter 
in  the  capitation.  But,  if  the  government  has  relieved  them 
in  one  point,  it  has  only  burthened  them  the  more  heavily 
in  another.  The  Taille*^  that  grievous  and  destructive  im- 
position, which  all  their  financiers  lament,  without  being 
able  to  remove  or  to  replace,  has  been  augmented  no  less 
than  six  millions  of  livres,  or  270,000  pounds  English.  A 
further  augmentation  of  this  or  other  duties  is  now  talked 
of  ;  and  it  is  certainly  necessary  to  their  affairs  :  so  exceed- 
ingly remote  from  either  truth  or  versimilitude  is  the  author's 
amazing  assertion,  that  the  burthens  of  France  in  the  ivar 
ivere  in  a  great  measure  temporary^  and  must  be  greatly  diminish- 
ed by  afeiu  years  of  peace. 

In  the  next  place,  if  the  people  of  France  are  not  light- 
ened of  taxes,  so  neither  is  the  state  disburthened  of  charges. 
I  speak  from  very  good  information,  that  the  annual  income 
of  that  state  is  at  this  day  30  milhon  of  livres,  or  j^.  1,350,000 
sterling,  short  of  a  provision  for  their  ordinary  peace  estab- 
lishment ;  so  far  are  they  from  the  attempt  or  even  hope  to  dis- 
charge any  part  of  the  capital  of  their  enormous  debt.  Indeed 
under  such  extreme  straitnessand  distraction  labours  the  whole 
body  of  their  finances,  so  far  does  their  charge  outrun  their 
supply  in  every  particular,  that  no  man,  I  believe,  who  has 
considered  their  affairs  with  any  degree  of  attention  or  in- 
formation, but  must  hourly  look  for  some  extraordinary  con- 
vulsion in  that  whole  system;  the  effect  of  which  on  France, 
and  even  on  all  Europe,  it  is  difficult  to  conjecture. 

In  the  third  point  of  view,  their  credit.  Let  the  reader 
cast  his  eye  on  a  table  of  the  price  of  French  funds,  as  they 
stood  a  few  weeks  ago,  compared  with  the  state  of  some  of 
our  English  stocks,  even  in  their  present  low  condition  ; 

French.  British, 

5  per  cent.       -       -     63  Bank  stocky  5  ^  159 

^  per  cent,  (not  taxed)  57  4  per  cent.  cons.  100 

S  per  cent,  ditto     -      49  3  per  cent.  cons.  88 

*  A  tax  rated  by  the  intendant  in  each  generahty  on  the  presumed  for- 
tune of  every  person  below  the  degree  of  a  gentleman. 


268  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

This  state  of  the  funds  of  France  and  England  is  suffi- 
cient to  convince  even  prejudice  and  obstinacy,  that  if  France 
and  England  are  not  in  the  same  condition  (as  the  author 
affirms  they  arc  not)  the  difference  is  infinitely  to  the  disad- 
vantage of  France.  This  depreciation  of  their  funds  has  not 
much  the  air  of  a  nation  lightening  burthens  and  discharg- 
ing debts. 

Such  is  the  true  comparative  state  of  the  two  kingdoms  in 
those  capital  points  of  view.  Now  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
taxes  which  provide  for  this  debt,  as  well  as  for  their  ordi- 
nary establishments,  the  author  has  thought  proper  to  affirm 
that  «  they  are  comparatively  light ;"  that  "  she  has  mort- 
gaged no  such  oppressive  taxes  as  ours  :"  his  effrontery  on 
this  head  is  intolerable.  Does  the  author  recollect  a  single 
tax  in  England  to  which  something  parallel  in  nature,  and  as 
heavy  in  burthen,  does  not  exist  in  France  ;  does  he  not 
know  that  the  lands  of  the  noblesse  are  still  under  the  load 
of  the  greater  part  of  the  old  feudal  charges,  from  which 
the  gentry  of  England  have  been  relieved  for  upwards  of 
100  years,  and  which  were  in  kind,  as  well  as  burthen, 
much  worse  than  our  modern  land  tax  ?  Besides  that  all  the 
gentry  of  France  serve  in  the  army  on  very  slender  pay,  and 
to  the  utter  ruin  of  their  fortunes  ;  all  those  who  are  not 
noble,  have  their  lands  heavily  taxed.  Does  he  not  know 
that  wine,  brandy,  soap,  candles,  leather,  salt-petre,  gunpow- 
der, are  taxed  in  France  .''  Has  he  not  heard  that  govern- 
ment in  France  has  made  a  monopoly  of  that  great  article  of 
salt  P  that  they  compel  the  people  to  take  a  certain  quanti- 
ty of  it,  and  at  a  certain  rate,  both  rate  and  quantity  fixed  at 
the  arbitrary  pleasure  of  the  imposer  ?*  that  they  pay  in 
France  the  Tail/ey  an  arbitrary  imposition  on  presumed  prop- 
erty ?  that  a  tax  is  laid  in  fact  and  name,  on  the  same  ar- 
bitrary standard,  upon  the  acquisitions  of  their  industry  ? 
and  that  in  France  a  heavy  capitatton-tax  is  also  paid,  from 

•  Before  the  war  it  was  sold  to,  or  rather  forced  on,  the  consumer  at 
1 1  sous,  or  about  5d.  the  pound.  What  it  is  at  present,  I  am  not  informed. 
Even  this  will  appear  no  trivial  imposition.  In  London,  salt  may  be  liad  at 
ji  penny  farthing  per  pound  from  the  last  retailer. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  ,       269 

the  highest  to  the  very  poorest  sort  of  people  ?  have  we 
taxes  of  such  weight,  or  any  thing  at  all  of  the  compulsion. 
La  the  article  of  salt  ?  do  we  pay  any  taillage^  tloj  faculty-tax y 
any  industry-tax  ?  do  we  pay  any  capitation-tax  whatsoever  ? 
I  believe  the  people  of  London  would  fall  into  an  agony  to 
hear  of  such  taxes  proposed  upon  them  as  are  paid  at  Paris. 
There  is  not  a  single  article  of  provision  for  man  or  beast, 
which  enters  that  great  city,  and  is  not  excised ;  corn,  hay, 
meal,  butcher's-meat,  fish,  fowls,  every  thing.  I  do  not  here 
mean  to  censure  the  policy  of  taxes  laid  on  the  consumption 
of  great  luxurious  cities.  I  only  state  the  fact.  We  should 
be  with  difiiculty  brought  to  hear  of  a  tax  of  BOs.  upon  every 
ox  sold  in  Smithfield.  Yet  this  tax  is  paid  in  Paris.  Wine, 
the  lower  sort  of  wine,  little  better  than  English  small  beer, 
pays  2^.  a  bottle.  We  indeed  tax  our  beer :  but  the  imposi- 
tion on  small  beer  is  very  far  from  heavy.  In  no  part  of 
England  are  eatables  of  any  kind  the  object  of  taxation.  In 
almost  every  other  country  in  Europe  they  are  excised,  more 
or  less.  I  have  by  me  the  state  of  the  revenues  of  many 
of  the  principal  nations  on  the  continent ;  and,  on  compar- 
ing them  with  ours,  I  think  I  am  fairly  warranted  to  assert, 
that  England  is  the  most  lightly  taxed  of  any  of  the  great 
states  of  Europe.  They  whose  unnatural  and  sullen  joy 
arises  from  a  contemplation  of  the  distresses  of  their  country 
will  revolt  at  this  position.  But  if  I  am  called  upon,  I  will 
prove  it  beyond  all  possibility  of  dispute  ;  even  though  this 
proof  should  deprive  these  gentlemen  of  the  singular  satis- 
faction of  considering  their  country  as  undone  ;  and  though 
the  best  civil  government,  the  best  constituted,  and  the  best 
managed  revenue  that  ever  the  world  beheld,  should  be 
thoroughly  vindicated  from  their  perpetual  clamours  and 
complaints.  As  to  our  neighbour  and  rival  France,  in  addi- 
tion to  what  I  have  here  suggested,  I  say,  and  when  the 
author  chooses  formally  to  deny,  I  shall  formally  prove  it, 
that  her  subjects  pay  more  than  England,  on  a  computation 
of  the  wealth  of  both  countries ;  that  her  taxes  are  more 
injudiciously  and  more  oppressively  imposed ;  more  vexati- 
ously  collected  ;  come  in  a  smaller  proportion  to  the  royal 
fofFers,  and  are  less  applied  by  far  to  the  publick  service. 


270  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

I  am  not  one  of  those  who  choose  to  take  the  author's  word 
for  this  happy  and  flourishing  condition  of  the  French  finan- 
ces, rather  than  attend  to  the  changes,  the  violent  pushes  and 
the  despair  of  all  her  own  financiers.  Does  he  choose  to  be 
referred  for  the  easy  and  happy  condition  of  the  subject  in 
France  to  the  remonstrances  of  their  own  parliaments,  writ- 
ten with  such  an  eloquence,  feeling,  and  energy,  as  I  have 
not  seen  exceeded  in  any  other  writings  ?  The  author  may 
say,  their  complaints  are  exaggerated,  and  the  effects  of  fac- 
tion. I  answer,  that  they  are  the  representations  of  numer- 
ous, grave,  and  most  respectable  bodies  of  men,  upon  the  af- 
fairs of  their  own  country.  But,  allowing  that  discontent 
and  faction  may  pervert  the  judgment  of  such  venerable  bod- 
ies in  France,  we  have  as  good  a  right  to  suppose  that  the 
same  causes  may  full  as  probably  have  produced  from  a  pri- 
vate, however  respectable  person,  that  frightful,  and,  I  trust 
I  have  shewn  groundless  representation  of  our  own  affairs  in 
England. 

The  author  is  so  conscious  of  the  dangerous  effects  of  that 
representation,  that  he  thinks  it  necessary,  and  very  neces- 
sary it  is,  to  guard  against  them.  He  assures  us,  "  that  he 
has  not  made  that  display  of  the  difficulties  of  his  country, 
to  expose  her  counsels  to  the  ridicule  of  other  states,  or  to 
provoke  a  vanquished  enemy  to  insult  her  j  nor  to  excite 
the  people's  rage  against  their  governours,  or  sink  them  in- 
to a  despondency  of  the  publick  welfare."  I  readily  admit 
this  apology  for  his  intentions.  God  forbid  I  should  think 
any  man  capable  of  entertaining  so  execrable  and  senseless  a 
design.  The  true  cause  of  his  drawing  so  shocking  a  pic- 
ture is  no  more  than  this ;  and  it  ought  rather  to  claim  our 
pity  than  excite  our  indignation ;  he  finds  himself  out  of 
power  j  and  this  condition  is  intolerable  to  him.  The  same 
sun  which  gilds  all  nature,  and  exhilarates  the  whole  creation, 
does  not  shine  upon  disappointed  ambition.  It  is  something 
that  rays  out  of  darkness,  and  inspires  nothing  but  gloom  and 
melancholy.  Men  in  this  deplorable  state  of  mind,  find  a 
comfort  in  spreading  the  contagion  of  their  spleen.  They 
find  an  advantage  too ;  for  it  is  a  general  popular  errour  to 
imagine  the  loudest  complainers  for  the  publick  to  be  the 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  271 

most  anxious  for  its  welfare.  If  such  persons  can  answer  the 
ends  of  relief  and  profit  to  themselves,  they  are  apt  to  be 
careless  enough  about  either  the  means  or  the  consequences. 
Whatever  this  complainant's  motives  may  be,  the  effects 
can  by  no  possibility  be  other  than  those  which  he  so  strong- 
ly, and  I  hope  truly,  disclaims  all  intention  of  producing. 
To  verify  this,  the  reader  has  only  to  consider  how  dreadful 
a  picture  he  has  drawn  in  his  32d  page  of  the  state  of  this 
kingdom ;  such  a  picture  as,  I  believe,  has  hardly  been  ap- 
plicable, without  some  exaggeration,  to  the  most  degenerate 
and  undone  commonwealth  that  ever  existed.  Let  this  view 
of  things  be  compared  with  the  prospect  of  a  remedy  which 
he  proposes  in  the  page  directly  opposite  and  the  subsequent. 
I  believe  no  man  living  could  have  imagined  it  possible,  ex- 
cept for  the  sake  of  burlesquing  a  subject,  to  propose  reme- 
dies so  ridiculously  disproportionate  to  the  evil,  so  full  of  un- 
certainty in  their  operation,  and  depending  for  their  success 
in  every  step  upon  the  happy  event  of  so  many  new,  dan- 
gerous, and  visionary  projects.  It  is  not  amiss,  that  he  has 
thought  proper  to  give  the  publick  some  little  notice  of  what 
they  may  expect  from  his  friends,  when  our  affairs  shall  be 
committed  to  their  management.  Let  us  see  how  the  ac- 
counts of  disease  and  remedy  are  balanced  in  his  State  of 
the  Nation.  In  the  first  place,  on  the  side  of  evils,  he  states, 
<*  an  impoverished  and  heavily  burthened  publick.  A  de- 
clining trade  and  decreasing  specie.  The  power  of  the  crown 
never  so  much  extended  over  the  great ;  but  the  great  with- 
out influence  over  the  lower  sort.  Parliament  losing  its  rev- 
erence with  the  people.  The  voice  of  the  multitude  set  up 
against  the  sense  of  the  legislature  j  a  people  luxurious  and 
licentious,  impatient  of  rule,  and  despising  all  authority. 
Government  relaxed  in  every  sinew,  and  a  corrupt  selfish 
spirit  pervading  the  whole.  An  opinion  of  maiiy,  that  the 
form  of  government  is  not  worth  contending  for.  No  at- 
tachment in  the  bulk  of  the  people  towards  the  constitution. 
No  reverence  for  the  customs  of  our  ancestors.  No  attach- 
ment but  to  private  interest,  nor  any  zeal  but  for  selfish  grat- 
ifications. Trade  and  manufactures  going  to  ruin.  Great 
Britain  in  danger  of  becoming  tributary  to  France,   and  the 


272  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

descent  of  the  crown  dependent  on  her  pleasure.  Ireland 
in  case  of  a  war  to  become  a  prey  to  France  ;  and  Great 
Britain,  unable  to  recover  Ireland,  cede  it  by  treaty  (the  au- 
thor never  can  think  of  a-  treaty  without  making  cessions),  in 
order  to  purchase  peace  for  herself.  The  colonies  left  ex- 
posed to  the  ravages  of  a  domestick,  or  the  conquest  of  a 
foreign  enemy." — Gloomy  enough,  God  knows.  The  au- 
thor well  observes*,  that  a  mind  not  totally  devoid  of  feeling 
cannot  look  upon  such  a  prospect  without  horrour  ;  and  an  heart 
capable  of  humanity  must  be  unable  to  bear  its  description.  He 
ought  to  have  added,  that  no  man  of  common  discretion 
ought  to  have  exhibited  it  to  the  publick,  if  it  were  true  j  or 
of  common  honesty,  if  it  were  false. 

But  now  for  the  comfort  •,  the  day-star  which  is  to  arise  in 
our  hearts  j  the  author's  grand  scheme  for  totally  reversing 
this  dismal  state  of  things,  and  making  us*  "  happy  at  home 
and  respected  abroad,  formidable  in  war  and  flourishing  in 
peace." 

In  this  great  work  he  proceeds  with  a  facility  equally  as- 
tonishing and  pleasing.  Never  was  financier  less  embarrass- 
ed by  the  burthen  of  establishments,  or  with  the  difKculty 
of  finding  ways  and  means.  If  an  establishment  is  trouble- 
some to  him,  he  lops  off  at  a  stroke  just  as  much  of  it  as  he 
chooses.  He  mows  down,  without  giving  quarter,  or  as- 
signing reason,  army,  navy,  ordnance,  ordinary,  extraordin- 
aries ;  nothing  can  stand  before  him.  Then,  when  he  comes 
to  provide,  Amalthea's  horn  is  in  his  hands  5  and  he  pours 
out  with  an  inexhaustible  bounty,  taxes,  duties,  loans,  and 
revenues,  without  uneasiness  to  himself,  or  burthen  to  the 
publick.  Insomuch  that,  when  we  consider  the  abundance 
of  his  resources,  we  cannot  avoid  being  surprised  at  his  ex- 
traordinary attention  to  savings.  But  it  is  all  the  exuberance 
of  his  goodness. 

This  book  has  so  much  of  a  certain  tone  of  power,  that 
one  would  be  almost  tempted  to  think  it  written  by  some 
person  who  had  been  high  in  office.  A  man  is  generally 
rendered  somewhat  a  worse  reasoner  for  having  been  a  min- 

•  P.  31.  t  P-  33. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  21$ 

ister.  In  private,  the  assent  of  listening  and  obsequious 
friends ;  in  publick,  the  venal  cry  and  prepared  vote  of  a 
passive  senate,  confirm  him  in  habits  of  begging  the  question 
with  impunity,  and  asserting  without  thinking  himself  oblig- 
ed to  prove.  Had  it  not  been  for  some  such  habits,  the  au- 
thor could  never  have  expected  that  we  should  take  his  esti- 
mate for  a  peace  establishment  solely  on  his  word. 

This  estimate  which  he  gives,*  is  the  great  groundwork 
of  his  plan  for  the  national  redemption  5  and  it  ought  to  be 
well  and  firmly  laid,  or  what  must  become  of  the  superstruc- 
ture ?  One  would  have  thought  the  natural  method  in  a  plan 
of  reformation  would  be,  to  take  the  present  existing  esti- 
mates as  they  stand;  and  then  to  shew  what  may  be  practic- 
ably and  safely  defalcated  from  them.  This  would,  I  say, 
be  the  natural  course ;  and  what  would  be  expected  from  a 
man  of  business.  But  this  author  takes  a  very  different 
method.  For  the  ground  of  his  speculation  of  a  present  peace 
establishment,  he  resorts  to  a  former  speculation  of  the  same 
kind,  which  was  in  the  mind  of  the  minister  of  the  year  1764-. 
Indeed  it  never  existed  any  where  else,  f "  The  plan,"  says 
he,  with  his  usual  ease,  "  has  been  already  formed,  and  the 
outline  drawn,  by  the  administration  of  1764.  I  shall  at- 
tempt to  fill  up  the  void  and  obliterated  parts,  and  trace  its 
operation.  The  standing  expense  of  the  present  (his  project- 
ed) peace  establishment  improved  by  the  experience  of  the  tivo 
last  years  may  be  thus  estimated  "  and  he  estimates  it  at 
j^.  3,468,161. 

Here  too  it  would  be  natural  to  expect  some  reasons  for 
condemning  the  subsequent  actual  establishments,  which 
have  so  much  transgressed  the  limits  of  his  plan  of  1764,  as 
well  as  some  arguments  in  favour  of  his  new  project ;  which 
has  in  some  articles  exceeded,  in  others  fallen  short,  but  on 
the  whole  is  much  below  his  old  one.  Hardly  a  word  on  any 
of  these  points,  the  only  points  however  that  are  in  the  least 
essential  •,  for  unless  you  assign  reasons  for  the  increase  or 
diminution  of  the  several  articles  of  publick  charge,  the 
playing  at   establishments  and  estimates  is  an  amusement   of 

*  P.  33.  t  P.  33. 

Vol.  I.  N  N 


274  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

nq  higher  order,  and  of  much  less  ingenuity,  than  Questions 
and  commands^  or  What  is  my  thought  like  P  To  bring  more 
distinctly  under  the  reader's  view  this  author's  strange  meth- 
od of  proceeding,  I  will  lay  before  him  the  three  schemes ; 
viz.  the  idea  of  the  ministers  in  1764,  the  actual  estimates  of 
the  two  last  years  as  given  by  the  author  himself,  and  lastly 
the  new  project  of  his  political  millennium  : 

£' 

Plan  of  establishment  for  1764<,  as  by  Considera- 
tions, p.  43,         -  -  -  -       *3,609,700 

Medium  of  1767  and  1768,  as  by  State  of  the 

Nation,  p.  29  and  30,  -  -  3,919,375 

Present  peace  establishment,  as  by  the  project  in 

State  of  the  Nation,  p.  33,  -  -         3,468,161 

It  is  not  from  any  thing  our  author  has  any  where  said, 
that  you  are  enabled  to  find  the  ground,  much  less  the  jus- 
tification, of  the  immense  difference  between  these  several 
systems  :  you  must  compare  them  yourself,  article  by  article  ; 
no  very  pleasing  employment,  by  the  way,  to  compare  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  chimeras.  I  now  only 
speak  of  the  comparison  of  his  own  two  projects.  As  to  the 
latter  of  them,  it  differs  from  the  former,  by  having  some 
of  the  articles  diminished,  and  others  increased. f  I  find 
the  chief  article  of  reduction  arises  from  the  smaller  defi- 
ciency of  land  and  malt,  and  of  the  annuity  funds,  which 
he  brings  down  to  ^.295,561  in  his  new  estimate,  from 
/.  502,400,  which  he  had  allowed  for  those  articles  in 
the  Considerations.  With  this  reduction^  owing,  as  it  must 
be,  merely  to  a  -smaller  deficiency  of  funds,  he  has  noth- 
ing at  all  to  do.  It  can  be  no  work  and  no  merit  of  his. 
But  with  regard  to  the  iticrease,  the  matter  is  very  dlfFei-ent. 
It  is  all  his  own ;  the  publick  is  loaded  (for  any  thing  we 
can  see   to  the   contrary)   entirely  gratis.     The  chief  arti- 

*  The  figures  in  the  ConsideratioHs  are  wrong  cast  up ;  it  should  be 
£,  3,608,700. 


f  Considerations,  p.  43.     State  of  the  Nation,  p.  33. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  275 

cles  of  the  increase  are  on  the  navy,*  and  on  the  army  and 
ordnance  extraordinaries  ;  the  navy  being  estimated  in  his 
State  of  the  Nation  £.  50,000  a  year  more,  and  the  army  and 
ordnance  extraordinaries  £.  40,000  more,  than  he  had 
thought  proper  to  allow  for  them  in  that  estimate  in  his  Con- 
siderations, which  he  makes  the  foundation  of  his  present 
project.  He  has  given  no  sort  of  reason,  stated  no  sort  of 
necessity,  for  this  additional  allowance,  either  in  the  one  arti- 
cle or  the  other.  What  is  still  stronger,  he  admits  that  his 
allowance  for  the  army  and  ordnance  extras  is  too  great,  and 
expressly  refers  you  to  the  Considerations  jf  where,  far  from 
giving  £.  75,000  a  year  to  that  service,  as  the  State  of  the 
Nation  has  done,  the  author  apprehends  his  own  scanty  pro- 
vision oi  £.  35,000  to  be  by  far  too  considerable,  and  thinks 
it  may  well  admit  of  further  reductions.:}:  Thus,  according 
to  his  own  principles,  this  great  economist  falls  into  a  vicious 
prodigality ;  and  is  as  far  in  his  estimate  from  a  consistency 
with  his  own  principles  as  with  the  real  nature  of  the  ser- 
vices. 

*  Considerations,  p.  43.  State  of  the  Nation,  p.  S3.  f  P.  34. 

\  The  author  of  the  State  of  the  Nation,  p.  34,  informs  us,  that  the 
sum  of  j^.  75,000,  allowed  by  him  for  the  extras  of  the  army  and  ordnance, 
is  far  less  than  was  allowed  for  the  same  service  in  the  years  1767  and  1768. 
It  is  so  undoubtedly,  and  by  at  least  £.  200,000.  He  sees  that  he  cannot 
abide  by  the  plan  of  the  Considerations  in  this  point,  nor  is  he  willing  whol- 
ly to  give  it  up.  Such  an  enormous  difference  as  that  between  £.  35,000 
and  jT.  300,000  puts  him  to  a  stand.  Should  he  adopt  the  latter  plan  of  in- 
creased expense,  he  must  then  confess  that  he  had,  on  a  former  occasion, 
egregiously  trifled  with  the  publick;  at  the  same  time  all  his  future  prom- 
ises of  reduction  must  fall  to  the  ground.  If  he  stuck  to  the  £.  35,000,  he 
was  sure  that  every  one  must  expect  from  him  some  account  how  this  mon- 
strous charge  came  to  continue  ever  since  the  war,  when  it  was  clearly  un- 
necessary; how  all  those  successions  of  ministers  (his  own  included)  carne  to 
pay  it,  and  why  his  great  friend  in  Parliament,  and  his  partisans  without 
doors,  came  not  to  pursue  to  ruin,  at  least  to  utter  shame,  the  authors  of  so 
groundless  and  scandalous  a  profusion.  In  this  strait  lie  took  a  middle  way  ; 
and,  to  come  nearer  the  real  state  of  the  service,  he  outbid  the  Considera- 
tions, at  one  stroke,  jT.  40,000;  at  the  same  time  he  hints  to  you,  that  you 
may  expect  some  benefit  also  from  the  original  plan.  But  the  author  of  the 
Considerations  will  not  suffer  him  to  escape  it.  He  has  pinned  him  down 
to  his  £.  35,000 ;  for  that  is  the  sum  he  has  chosen,  not  as  what  he  thinks 
will  probably  be  required,  but  as  making  the  most  ample  allow  ance  for  every 
possible  contingency.     See  that  author,  p.  42  and  43. 


276  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Still,  however,  his  present  establishment  differs  from  its 
archetype  of  1764,  by  being,  though  raised  in  particular  parts, 
upon  the  whole  about  £.  14-1,000  smaller.  It  is  improved, 
he  tells  us,  by  the  experience  of  the  two  last  years.  One 
would  have  concluded  that  the  peace  establishment  of  these 
two  years  had  been  less  than  that  of  1764,  in  order  to  sug- 
gest to  the  author  his  improvements,  which  enabled  him  to 
reduce  it.     But  how  does  that  turn  out  ? 

Peace  establishment*   1767  and  1768,  medium,     3,919,375 
Ditto,  estimate  in  the  Considerations,  for  1764,     3,609,700 


Difference         -         ^.309,675 

A  vast  increase  instead  of  diminution.  The  experience  then 
of  the  two  last  years  ought  naturally  to  have  given  the  idea 
of  an  heavier  establishment ;  but  this  writer  is  able  to  dim- 
inish by  increasing,  and  to  draw  the  effects  of  subtraction 
from  the  operations  of  addition.  By  means  of  these  new 
powers,  he  may  certainly  do  whatever  he  pleases.  He  is  in- 
deed moderate  enough  in  the  use  of  them,  and  condescends 
to  settle  his  establishments  at  £.  3,468,161  a  year. 

However,  he  has  not  yet  done  with  it ;  he  has  further 
ideas  of  saving,  and  new  resources  of  revenue.  These  addi-^ 
tional  savings  are  principally  two  :  1st,  It  is  to  be  hoped,-\  says 
he,  that  the  sum  of  ^.250,000  (which  in  the  estimate  he 
allows  for  the  deficiency  of  land  and  malt)  will  be  less  by 
£.  37,924.:}: 

*  He  has  done  great  injustice  to  the  establishment  of  1768 ;  but  I  have 
not  here  time  for  this  discussion  ;  nor  is  it  necessary  to  this  argument. 

f  P.  34. 

\  In  making  up  this  account,  he  falls  into  a  surprising  errour  of  arithmet- 
ick.  "  The  deficiency  of  the  land-tax  in  the  year  1754  and  1755,*  when 
it  was  at  2s.  amounted  to  no  more,  on  a  medium,  than  ;^.49,372  ;  to  which, 
if  we  add  La!/  the  sum,  it  will  give  us  £.79,058  as  the  peace  deficiency  at  3j. 

£• 

Total,  -  -  -  -  -         49,372 

Add  the  half,         ....  24,686 


;C-74,058 
Which  he  makes  £.'!9,05S.    This  is  indeed   in  disfavour  of  his  argument  ; 
but  we  shall  see  that  he  has  ways,  by  other  errours,  of  reimbursing  himself- 

*  P.  S3. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  2YY 

2d,  That  the  sum  of  ^^.20,000  allowed  for  the  Foundling 
Hospital,  and^.l,800for  American  Surveys,  will  soon  cease 
to  be  necessary,  as  the  services  will  be  completed. 

What  follows  with  regard  to  the  resources,*  is  very  well 
worthy  the  reader's  attention.  "  Of  this  estimate,"  says 
he,  "  upwards  of  ^^-300,000  will  be  for  the  plantation  ser- 
vice ;  and  that  sum,  /  hope,  the  people  of  Ireland  and  the 
colonies  might  be  induced  to  take  off  Great  Britain,  and  de- 
fray between  them,  in  the  proportion  of  ^.200,000  by  the 
colonies,  and  j^.  100,000  by  Ireland." 

Such  is  the  whole  of  this  mighty  scheme.  Take  his  re- 
duced estimate,  and  his  further  reductions,  and  his  resources 
all  together,  and  the  result  will  be  ;  He  will  certainly  lower 
the  provision  made  for  the  navy.  He  will  cut  off  largely 
(God  knows  what  or  how)  from  the  army  and  ordnance  ex- 
traordinaries.  He  may  be  expected  to  cut  off  more.  He 
hopes  that  the  deficiencies  on  land  and  malt  will  be  less  than 
usual  ;  and  he  hopes  that  America  and  Ireland  might  be  in- 
duced to  take  off'  ^.300,000  of  our  annual  charges. 

If  any  of  these  Hopes,  Mights,  Insinuations,  Expecta- 
tions, and  Inducements,  should  fail  him,  there  will  be  a 
formidable  gaping  breach  in  his  whole  project.  If  all  of 
them  should  fail,  he  has  left  the  nation  without  a  glimmering 
of  hope  in  this  thick  night  of  terrours  which  he  has  thought 
fit  to  spread  about  us.  If  every  one  of  them,  which,  at- 
tended with  success,  would  signify  any  thing  to  our  revenue, 
can  have  no  effect  but  to  add  to  our  distractions  and  dangers, 
we  shall  be  if  possible  in  a  still  worse  condition  from  his  pro- 
jects of  cure  than  he  represents  us  from  our  original  disor- 
ders. 

Before  we  examine  into  the  consequences  of  these  schemes, 
and  the  probability  of  these  savings,  let  us  suppose  them  all 
real  and  all  safe,  and  then  see  what  it  is  they  amount  to,  and 
how  he  reasons  on  them  : 

*  P.  34. 


27s  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Deficiency  on  land  and  malt,  less  by  37,000 

Foundling  Hospital,         -         -         -  -      20,000 

American  Sm"veys,     -         -         -         -  1,800 


;^.58,800 

This  is  the  amount  of  the  only  articles  of  saving  he  speci- 
fies ;  and  yet  he  chooses  to  assert*  "  that  we  may  venture 
on  the  credit  of  them  to  reduce  the  standing  expenses  of 
the  estimate  (from  ^.3,468,161)  to  ^^ .3,300,000  ;"  that  is, 
for  a  saving  of  j^. 58,000,  he  is  not  ashamed  to  take  credit 
for  a  defalcation  from  his  own  ideal  establishment  in  a  sum 
of  no  less  than  j^.  168,161  !  Suppose  even  that  we  were  to 
take  up  the  estimate  of  the  Considerations  (which  is  however 
abandoned  in  the  State  of  the  Nation),  and  reduce  his 
^.75,000  extraordinaries  to  the  original  ^.35,000,  still  all 
these  savings  joined  together  give  us  but  j^. 98,800  ;  that  is, 
near  ^.70,000  short  of  the  credit  he  calls  for,  and  for  which 
he  has  neither  given  any  reason,  nor  furnished  ony  data 
whatsoever  for  others  to  reason  upon. 

Such  are  his  savings,  as  operating  on  his  own  project  of  a 
peace  establishment.  Let  us  now  consider  them  as  they  af- 
fect the  existing  establishment  and  our  actual  services.  He 
tells  us,  the  sum  allowed  in  his  estimate  for  the  navy  is 
"  j^.69,321  less  than  the  grant  for  that  service  in  1767  ;  but 
in  that  grant  ^.30,000  was  included  for  the  purchase  of 
hemp,  and  a  saving  of  about  ^.25,000  was  made  in  that 
year."  The  author  has  got  some  secret  in  arithmetick. 
These  two  sums  put  together  amount,  in  the  ordinary  way 
of  computing,  to  j^. 55,000,  and  not  to  ^.69,321.  On  what 
principle  has  he  chosen  to  take  credit  for  ^.14<,321  more  ? 
To  what  this  strange  inaccuracy  is  owing,  I  cannot  possibly 
comprehend ;  nor  is  it  very  material,  where  the  logick  is  so 
bad,  and  the  policy  so  erroneous,  whether  the  arithmetick 
be  just  or  otherwise.  But  ina  scheme  for  making  this  nation 
"  happy  at  home  and  respected  abroad,  formidable  in  war 

*  P.  43, 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  279 

and  flourishing  in  peace,"  it  is  surely  a  little  unfortunate  for 
us,  that  he  has  picked  out  the  Navy,  as  the  very  first  object 
of  his  economical  experiments.  Of  all  the  publick  servi- 
ces, that  of  the  navy  is  the  one  in  which  tampering  may  be 
of  the  greatest  danger,  which  can  worst  be  supplied  upon  an 
emergency,  and  of  which  any  failure  draws  after  it  the 
longest  and  heaviest  train  of  consequences.  I  am  far  from 
saying,  that  this  or  any  service  ought  not  to  be  conducted 
with  economy.  But  I  will  never  suffer  the  sacred  name  of 
economy  to  be  bestowed  upon  arbitrary  defalcation  of  charge. 
The  author  tells  us  himself,  "  that  to  suffer  the  navy  to  rot 
in  harbpur  for  want  of  repairs  and  marines,  would  be  to  in- 
vite destruction."  It  would  be  so.  When  the  author  talks 
therefore  of  savings  on  the  navy  estimate,  it  is  incumbent  on 
him  to  let  us  know,  not  what  sums  he  will  cut  off,  but  what 
branch  of  that  service  he  deems  superfluous.  Instead  of 
putting-  us  off  with  unmeaning  generalities,  he  ought  to  have 
stated  what  naval  force,  what  naval  works,  and  Avhat  naval 
stores,  with  the  lowest  estimated  expense,  are  necessary  to 
keep  our  marine  in  a  condition  commensurate  to  its  great 
ends.  And  this  too  not  for  the  contracted  and  deceitful 
space  of  a  single  year,  but  for  some  reasonable  term.  Every 
body  knows  that  many  charges  cannot  be  in  their  nature  reg- 
ular or  annual.  In  the  year  1767  a  stock  of  hemp,  &c.  was 
to  be  laid  in ;  that  charge  intermits,  but  it  does  not  end. 
Other  charges  of  other  kinds  take  their  place.  Great  works 
are  now  carrying  on  at  Portsmouth,  but  not  of  greater  mag- 
nitude than  utility ;  and  they  must  be  provided  for.  A 
year's  estimate  is  therefore  no  just  idea  at  all  of  a  permanent 
peace  establishment.  Had  the  author  opened  this  matter 
upon  these  plain  principles,  a  judgment  might  have  been 
formed,  how  far  he  had  contrived  to  reconcile  national  de- 
fence with  publick  economy.  Till  he  has  done  it,  those 
who  had  rather  depend  on  any  man's  reason  than  the  great- 
est man's  authority  will  not  give  him  credit  on  this  head, 
for  the  saving  of  a  single  shilling.  As  to  those  savings  which 
tire  already  made,  or  in  course  of  being  made,  whether  right 
or  wrong,  he  has  nothing  at  all  to  do  with  them ;  they  can 
be  no  part  of  his  project,  considered  as  ^^  plan  of  reforma- 


280  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

tion.     I  greatly  fear  that  the  errour  has  not  lately  been  on 
the  side  of  profusion. 

Another  head  is  the  saving  on  the  army  and  ordnance  €x- 
traordinaries,  particularly  in  the  American  branch.  What  or 
how  much  reduction  may  be  made,  none  of  us,  I  believe, 
can  with  any  fairness  pretend  to  say ;  very  little,  I  am  con-  ' 
vinced.  The  state  of  America  is  extremely  unsettled  ;  more 
troops  have  been  sent  thither ;  new  dispositions  have  been 
made  *,  and  this  augmentation  of  number,  and  change  of 
disposition,  has  rarely,  I  believe,  the  effect  of  lessening  the 
bill  for  extraordinaries,  which,  if  not  this  year,  yet  in  the 
next  we  must  certainly  feel.  Care  has  not  been  wanting  to 
Introduce  economy  into  that  part  of  the  service.  The  au- 
thor's great  friend  has  made,  I  admit,  some  regulations  ;  his 
immediate  successours  have  made  more  and  better.  This  part 
will  be  handled  more  ably  and  more  minutely  at  another 
time :  but  no  one  can  cut  down  this  bill  of  extraordinaries 
at  his  pleasure.  The  author  has  given  us  nothing,  but  his 
word,  for  any  certain  or  considerable  reduction  ;  and  this  we 
ought  to  be  the  more  cautious  in  taking,  as  he  has  promised 
great  savings  in  his  Considerations^  which  he  has  not  chosen 
to  abide  by  in  his  State  of  the  Nation. 

On  this  head  also  of  the  American  extraordinaries,  he 
can  take  credit  for  nothing.  As  to  his  next,  the  lessening 
of  the  deficiency  of  the  land  and  malt  tax,  particularly  of 
the  malt  tax  ;  any  person  the  least  conversant  in  that  subject 
cannot  avoid  a  smile.  This  deliciency  arises  from  charge  of 
collection,  from  anticipation,  and  from  defective  produce. 
What  has  the  author  said  on  the  reduction  of  any  head  of 
this  deficiency  upon  the  land  tax  ?  On  these  points  he  is  ab- 
solutely silent.  As  to  the  deficiency  on  the  malt  tax,  which 
is  chiefly  owing  to  a  defective  produce,  he  has,  and  can  have 
nothing  to  propose.  If  this  deficiency  should  be  lessened 
by  the  increase  of  malting  in  any  years  more  than  in  others, 
(as  it  is  a  greatly  fluctuating  object),  how  much  of  this  oblig- 
ation shall  we  owe  to  this  author's  ministry  .''  will  it  not  be 
the  case  under  any  administration  ?  must  it  not  go  to  the 
general  service  of  the  year,  in  some  way  or  other,  let  the 
finances  be  in  whose  hands  they  will .''    But  why  take  credit 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  281 

for  SO  extremely  reduced  a  deficiency  at  all  ?  I  can  tell  him  he 
has  no  rational  ground  for  it  in  the  produce  of  the  year  1767  ; 
and  I  suspect  will  have  full  as  little  reason  from  the  produce 
of  the  year  1768.  That  produce  may  indeed  become  great- 
er, and  the  deficiency  of  course  will  be  less.  It  may  too  be 
far  otherwise.  A  fair  and  judicious  financier  will  not,  as 
this  writer  has  done,  for  the  sake  of  making  out  a  specious 
account,  select  a  favourable  year  or  two,  at  remote  periods, 
and  ground  his  calculations  on  those.  In  1768  he  will  not 
take  the  deficiencies  of  1753  and  1754  for  his  standard. 
Sober  men  have  hitherto  (and  must  continue  this  course  to 
preserve  tlais  character)  taken  indifferently  the  mediums  of 
the  years  immediately  preceding.  But  a  person  who  has  a 
scheme  from  which  he  promises  much  to  the  publick  ought 
to  be  still  more  cautious  ;  he  should  ground  his  speculation 
rather  on  the  lowest  mediums ;  because  all  new  schemes  are 
known  to  be  subject  to  some  defect  or  failure  not  foreseen  ; 
and  which  therefore  every  prudent  proposer  will  be  ready  to 
allow  for,  in  order  to  lay  his  foundation  as  low  and  as  solid 
as  possible.  Quite  contrary  is  the  practice  of  some  politi- 
cians. They  first  propose  savings,  which  they  well  know  can- 
not be  made,  in  order  to  get  a  reputation  for  econoiny.  In 
due  time  they  assume  another,  but  a  different  method,  by 
providing  for  the  service  they  had  before  cut  off  or  straiten- 
ed, and  which  they  can  then  very  easily  prove  to  be  neces- 
sary. In  the  same  spirit  they  raise  magnificent  Ideas  of  rev- 
enue on  funds  which  they  know  to  be  insufficient.  After- 
wards, who  can  blame  them,  if  they  do  not  satisfy  the  pub- 
lick  desires  ?  They  are  great  artificers  ;  but  they  cannot  work 
without  materials. 

These  are  some  of  the  little  arts  of  great  statesmen.  To 
such  we  leave  them,  and  follow  where  the  author  leads  us, 
to  his  next  resource,  the  Foundling  Hospital.  Whatever 
particular  virtue  there  is  in  the  mode  of  this  saving,  there 
seems  to  be  nothing  at  all  new,  and  Indeed  nothing  wonder- 
fully Important  in  it.  The  sum  annually  voted  for  the 
support  of  the  Foundling  Hospital  has  been  in  a  former 
parliament  limited  to  the  establishment  of  the  children  then 
in  the  hospital.     When  they  are  apprenticed,  this  provision 

Vol.  I.  O  o 


282  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

will  cease.  It  will  therefore  fall  in  more  or  less  at  different 
times  j  and  will  at  length  cease  entirely.  But,  until  it  does, 
we  cannot  reckon  upon  it  as  the  saving  on  the  establishment 
of  any  given  year :  nor  can  any  one  conceive  how  the  au- 
thor comes  to  mention  this,  any  more  than  some  other  arti- 
cles, as  a  part  of  a  neiv  plan  of  economy  which  is  to  retrieve 
our  affairs.  This  charge  will  indeed  cease  in  its  own  time. 
But  will  no  other  succeed  to  it  ?  Has  he  ever  known  the 
publick  free  from  some  contingent  charge,  either  for  the  just 
support  of  royal  dignity,  or  for  national  magnificence,  or  for 
publick  charity,  or  for  publick  service  ?  does  he  choose  to 
flatter  his  readers  that  no  such  will  ever  return  ?  or  does  he 
in  good  earnest  declare,  that  let  the  reason,  or  necessity,  be 
what  they  will,  he  is  resolved  not  to  provide  for  such  ser- 
vices ? 

Another  resource  of  economy  yet  remains,  for  he  gleans 
the  field  very  closely,  ^.1,800  for  the  American  surveys. 
Why  what  signifies  a  dispute  about  trifles  ?  he  shall  have  it. 
But  while  he  is  carrying  it  off,  I  shall  just  whisper  in  his  ear, 
that  neither  the  saving  that  is  allowed,  nor  that  which  is 
doubted  of,  can  at  all  belong  to  that  future  proposed  admin- 
istration, whose  touch  is  to  cure  all  our  evils.  Both  the  one 
and  the  other  belong  equally  (as  indeed  all  the  rest  do)  to  the 
present  administration,  to  any  administration ;  because  they 
are  the  gift  of  time,  and  not  the  bounty  of  the  exchequer. 

I  have  now  done  with  all  the  minor  preparatory  parts  of 
the  author's  scheme,  the  several  articles  of  saving  which  he 
proposes.  At  length  comes  the  capital  operation,  his  new 
resources.  Three  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year  from 
America  and  Ireland. — Alas !  alas !  if  that  too  should  fail 
us,  what  will  become  of  this  poor  undone  nation  ?  The  au- 
thor in  a  tone  of  great  humility,  hopes  they  may  be  induced 
to  pay  it.  Well,  if  that  be  all,  we  may  hope  so  too  :  and 
for  any  light  he  is  pleased  to  give  us  into  the  ground  of  this 
hope,  and  the  ways  and  means  of  this  inducement,  here  is  a 
speedy  end  both  of  the  question  and  the  revenue. 

It  is  the  constant  custom  of  this  author,  in  all  his  writings, 
to  take  it  for  granted,  that  he  has  given  you  a  revenue, 
whenever  he  can  point  out  to  you  where  you  may  have  mon- 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  283 

ey,  if  you  can  contrive  how  to  get  at  it ;  and  this  seems  to 
be  the  master-piece  of  his  financial  ability.  I  think,  how- 
ever, in  his  way  of  proceeding,  he  has  behaved  rather  like 
an  harsh  step-dame,  than  a  kind  nursing  mother  to  his  coun- 
try. Why  stop  at  £.  300,000  ?  If  his  state  of  things  be  at 
all  founded,  America  and  Ireland  are  much  better  able  to 
pay  £.  600,000,  than  we  are  to  satisfy  ourselves  with  half 
that  sum.  However,  let  us  forgive  him  this  one  instance  of 
tenderness  towards  Ireland  and  the  colonies. 

He  spends  a  vast  deal  of  time*,  in  an  endeavour  to  prove, 
that  Ireland  is  able  to  bear  greater  impositions.  He  is  of 
opinion,  that  the  poverty  of  the  lower  class  of  people  there 
is,  in  a  great  measure,  owing  to  a  tuant  of  judicious  taxes ; 
that  a  land  tax  will  enrich  her  tenants  ;  that  taxes  are  paid 
in  England  which  are  not  paid  there ;  that  the  colony  trade 
is  increased  above  ^.100,000  since  the  peace-,  that  she 
ought  to  have  further  indulgence  in  that  trade ;  and  ought 
to  have  further  privileges  in  the  woollen  manufacture.  From 
these  premises,  of  what  she  has,  what  she  has  not,  and  what 
she  ought  to  have,  he  infers  that  Ireland  will  contribute 
£.  100,000  towards  the  extraordinaries  of  the  American 
establishment. 

I  shall  make  no  objections  whatsoever,  logical  or  financial, 
to  this  reasoning  :  many  occur ;  but  they  would  lead  me 
from  my  purpose,  from  which  I  do  not  intend  to  be  diverted, 
because  it  seems  to  me  of  no  small  importance.  It  will  be 
just  enough  to  hint,  what  I  dare  say  many  readers  have  be- 
fore observed,  that  when  any  man  proposes  new  taxes  in  a 
country  with  which  he  is  not  personally  conversant  by  resi- 
dence or  office,  he  ought  to  lay  open  its  situation  much  more 
minutely  and  critically  than  this  author  has  done,  or  than 
perhaps  he  is  able  to  do.  He  ought  not  to  content  himself 
with  saying  that  a  single  article  of  her  trade  is  increased 
£.  100,000  a  year  ;  he  ought,  if  he  argues  from  the  increase 
of  trade  to  the  increase  of  taxes,  to  state  the  whole  trade, 
and  not  one  branch  of  trade  only  ;  he  ought  to  enter  fully 
into  the  state  of  its  remittances,  and  the  course  of  its  ex- 


gg^  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

change  ;  he  ought  likewise  to  examine  whether  all  its  estab- 
lishments are  increased  or  diminished  •,  and  whether  it  incurs 
or  discharges  debt  annually.  But  I  pass  over  all  this  }  and 
am  content  to  ask  a  few  plain  questions. 

Does  the  author  then  seriously  mean  to  propose  in  parlia- 
ment a  land  tax,  or  any  tax  for  £.  100,000  a  year  upon  Ire- 
land ?  If  he  does,  and  if  fatally,  by  his  temerity  and  our 
weakness,  he  should  succeed  ;  then  I  say  he  will  throw  the 
whole  empire  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other  into  mortal 
convulsions.  What  is  it  that  can  satisfy  the  furious  and 
perturbed  mind  of  this  man ;  is  it  not  enough  for  him  that 
such  projects  have  alienated  our  colonies  from  the  mother 
country,  and  not  to  propose  violently  to  tear  our  sister  king- 
dom also  from  our  side,  and  to  convince  every  dependent 
part  of  the  empire,  that,  when  a  little  money  is  to  be  raised, 
we  have  no  sort  of  regard  to  their  ancient  customs,  their 
opinions,  their  circumstances,  or  their  affections  .'*  He  has 
however  a  douceur  for  Ireland  in  his  pocket ;  benefits  in  trade, 
by  opening  the  woollen  manufacture  to  that  nation.  A  very 
right  idea  in  my  opinion ;  but  not  more  strong  in  reason, 
than  likely  to  be  opposed  by  the  most  powerful  and  most  vi- 
olent of  all  local  prejudices  and  popular  passions.  First,  a 
fire  is  already  kindled  by  his  schemes  of  taxation  in  Ameri- 
ca j  he  then  proposes  one  which  will  set  all  Ireland  in  a 
blaze ;  and  his  way  of  quenching  both  is  by  a  plan  which 
may  kindle  perhaps  ten  times  a  greater  flame  in  Britain. 

Will  the  author  pledge  himself,  previously  to  his  proposal 
of  such  a  tax,  to  carry  this  enlargement  of  the  Irish  trade ; 
if  he  does  not,  then  the  tax  will  be  certain ;  the  benefit  will 
be  less  than  problematical.  In  this  view,  his  compensation 
to  Ireland  vanishes  into  smoke ;  the  tax,  to  their  prejudices, 
will  appear  stark  naked  in  the  light  of  an  act  of  arbitrary 
power  and  oppression.  But,  if  he  should  propose  the  bene- 
fit and  tax  together,  then  the  people  of  Ireland,  a  very  high 
and  spirited  people,  would  think  it  the  worst  bargain  in  the 
world.  They  would  look  upon  the  one  as  wholly  vitiated 
and  poisoned  by  the  other  ;  and,  if  they  could  not  be  sepa- 
rated, would  infallibly  resist  them  both  together.  Here 
would  be  taxes  indeed,  amounting  to  an  handsome  sum ; 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  285 

£.  100,000  very  effectually  voted,  and  passed  through  the 
best  and  most  authentick  forms  j  but  how  to  be  collected  ? — 
This  is  his  perpetual  manner.  One  of  his  projects  depends 
for  success  upon  another  project,  and  this  upon  a  third,  all 
of  them  equally  visionary.  His  finance  is  like  the  Indian 
philosophy ;  his  earth  is  poised  on  the  horns  of  a  bull,  his 
bull  stands  upon  an  elephant,  his  elephant  is  supported  by  a 
tortoise  :  and  so  on  for  ever. 

As  to  his  American  £.  200,000  a  year,  he  is  satisfied  to 
repeat  gravely,  as  he  has  done  an  hundred  times  before, 
that  the  Americans  are  able  to  pay  it.  Well,  and  what 
then  ?  does  he  lay  open  any  part  of  his  plan  how  they  may  be 
compelled  to  pay  it,  without  plunging  ourselves  into  calami- 
ties that  outweigh  tenfold  the  proposed  benefit  ?  or  does  he 
shew  how  they  may  be  induced  to  submit  to  it  quietly  ?  or 
does  he  give  any  satisfaction  concerning  the  mode  of  levy- 
ing it,  in  commercial  colonies  one  of  the  most  important  and 
difficult  of  all  considerations  ?  Nothing  like  it.  To  the 
stamp  act,  whatever  its  excellencies  may  be,  I  think  he  will 
not  in  reality  recur,  or  even  choose  to  assert  that  he  means 
to  do  so,  in  case  his  minister  should  come  again  into  power. 
If  he  does,  I  will  predict  that  some  of  the  fastest  friends  of 
that  minister  will  desert  him  upon  this  point.  As  to  port 
duties,  he  has  damned  them  all  in  the  lump,  by  declaring 
them*  **  contrary  to  the  first  principles  of  colonization,  and 
not  less  prejudicial  to  the  interests  of  Great  Britain  than  to 
those  of  the  colonies."  Surely  this  single  observation  of  his 
ought  to  have  taught  him  a  little  caution ;  he  ought  to  have 
begun  to  doubt,  whether  there  is  not  something  in  the  na- 
ture of  commercial  colonies,  which  renders  them  an  unfit 
object  of  taxation  ;  when  port  duties,  so  large  a  fund  of  rev- 
enue in  all  countries,  are  by  himself  found,  in  this  case,  not 
only  improper,  but  destructive.  However  he  has  here  pret- 
ty well  narrowed  the  field  of  taxation.  Stamp  act,  hardly  to 
be  resumed.  Port  duties,  mischievous.  Excises,  I  believe, 
he  will  scarcely  think  worth  the  collection  (if  any  revenue 
should  be  so)  in   America.     Land  tax   (notwithstanding  his 

•  P.  37. 


286  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

opinion  of  its  immense  use  to  agriculture),  he  will  not  di- 
rectly propose,  before  he  has  thought  again  and  again  on  the 
subject.  Indeed  he  very  readily  recommends  it  for  Ireland, 
and  seems  to  think  it  not  improper  for  America ;  because, 
he  observes,  they  already  raise  most  of  their  taxes  internally, 
including  this  tax.  A  most  curious  reason  truly  !  because 
their  lands  are  already  heavily  burthened,  he  thinks  it  right 
to  burthen  them  still  further.  But  he  will  recollect,  for 
surely  he  cannot  be  ignorant  of  it,  that  the  lands  of  America 
are  not,  as  in  England,  let  at  a  rent  certain  in  money,  and 
therefore  cannot,  as  here,  be  taxed  at  a  certain  pound  rate. 
They  value  them  in  gross  among  themselves  ;  and  none  but 
themselves  in  their  several  districts  can  value  them.  With- 
out their  hearty  concurrence  and  co-operation,  it  is  evident, 
we  cannot  advance  a  step  in  the  assessing  or  collecting  any 
land  tax.  As  to  the  taxes  which  in  some  places  the  Ameri- 
cans pay  by  the  acre,  they  are  merely  duties  of  regulation  : 
they  are  small ;  and  to  increase  them,  notwithstanding  the 
secret  virtues  of  a  land  tax,  would  be  the  most  effectual 
means  of  preventing  that  cultivation  they  are  intended  to 
promote.  Besides,  the  whole  country  is  heavily  in  arrear 
already  for  land  taxes  and  quit  rents.  They  have  different 
methods  of  taxation  in  the  different  provinces,  agreeable  to 
their  several  local  circumstances.  In  New  England  by  far 
the  greatest  part  of  their  revenue  is  raised  hy  faculty  taxes 
and  capitations.  Such  is  the  method  in  many  others.  It  is 
obvious  that  parliament,  unassisted  by  the  colonies  them- 
selves, cannot  take  so  much  as  a  single  step  in  this  mode  of 
taxation.  Then  what  tax  is  it  he  will  impose  ?  Why,  after 
all  the  boasting  speeches  and  writings  of  his  faction  for  these 
four  years,  after  all  the  vain  expectations  which  they  have 
held  out  to  a  deluded  publick,  this  their  great  advocate,  after 
twisting  the  subject  every  way,  after  writhing  himself  in  eve- 
ry posture,  after  knocking  at  every  door,  is  obliged  fairly  to 
abandon  every  mode  of  taxation  whatsoever  in  America. 
*He  thinks  it  the  best  method  for  parliament  to  impose  the 
sum,  and  reserve  the  account  to  itself,  leaving  the  mode  of 

•  P.  37,  38. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  287 

taxation  to  the  colonies.  But  how  and  in  what  proportion  ? 
what  does  the  author  say  ?  O,  not  a  single  syllable  on  this 
the  most  material  part  of  the  whole  question.  Will  he,  in 
parliament,  undertake  to  settle  the  proportions  of  such  pay- 
ments from  Nova  Scotia  to  Nevis,  in  no  fewer  than  six  and 
twenty  different  countries,  varying  in  almost  every  possible 
circumstance  one  from  another  ?  if  he  does,  I  tell  him,  he 
adjourns  his  revenue  to  a  very  long  day.  If  he  leaves  it  to 
themselves  to  settle  these  proportions,  he  adjourns  it  to 
doomsday. 

Then  what  does  he  get  by  this  method  on  the  side  of  ac- 
quiescence ?  will  the  people  of  America  relish  this  course, 
of  giving  and  granting  and  applying  their  money,  the  better 
because  their  assemblies  are  made  commissioners  of  the  tax- 
es ?  This  is  far  worse  than  all  his  former  projects  ;  for  here, 
if  the  assemblies  shall  refuse,  or  delay,  or  be  negligent,  or 
fraudulent,  in  this  new-imposed  duty,  we  are  wholly  with- 
out remedy  ;  and  neither  our  custom-house  officers,  nor  our 
troops,  nor  our  armed  ships  can  be  of  the  least  use  in  the 
collection.  No  idea  can  be  more  contemptible  (I  will  not 
call  it  an  oppressive  one,  the  harshness  is  lost  in  the  folly) 
than  that  of  proposing  to  get  any  revenue  from  the  Ameri- 
cans but  by  their  freest  and .  most  cheerful  consent.  Most 
monied  men  know  their  own  interest  right  well ;  and  are  as 
able  as  any  financier,  in  the  valuation  of  risks.  Yet  I  think 
this  financier  will  scarcely  find  that  adventurer  hardy  enough, 
at  any  premium,  to  advance  a  shilling  upon  a  vote  of  such 
taxes.  Let  him  name  the  man,  or  set  of  men,  that  would  do 
it.  This  is  the  only  proof  of  the  value  of  revenues ;  what 
would  an  interested  man  rate  them  at  ?  His  subscription 
would  be  at  ninety-nine  per  cent,  discount  the  very  first  day 
of  its  opening.  Here  is  our  only  national  security  from  ruin  ; 
a  security  upon  which  no  man  in  his  senses  would  venture  a 
shilling  of  his  fortune.  Yet  he  puts  down  those  articles  as 
gravely  in  his  supply  for  his  peace  establishment,  as  if  the 
money  had  been  all  fairly  lodged  in  the  exchequer. 

American  revenue,       -       200,000 
Ireland,      -         -         -       100,000 


288  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Very  handsome  indeed  !  but  if  supply  is  to  be  got  in  such 
a  manner,  farewell  the  lucrative  mystery  of  finance  !  If  you 
are  to  be  credited  for  savings,  without  sliewing  how,  wjay, 
or  with  what  safety,  they  are  to  be  made ;  and  for  revenues, 
without  specifying  on  what  articles,  or  by  what  means,  or  at 
what  expense,  they  are  to  be  collected  ;  there  is  not  a  clerk 
in  a  publick  office  who  may  not  outbid  this  author,  or  his 
friend,  for  the  department  of  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  ; 
not  an  apprentice  in  the  city,  that  will  not  strike  out,  Avith 
the  same  advantages,  the  same,  or  a  much  larger,  plan  of 
supply. 

Here  is  the  whole  of  what  belongs  to  the  author's  scheme 
for  saving  us  from  impending  destruction.  Take  it  even  in 
its  most  favourable  point  of  view,  as  a  thing  within  possibil- 
ity ;  and  imagine  what  must  be  the  wisdom  of  this  gentle- 
man, or  his  opinion  of  ours,  who  could  first  think  of  repre- 
senting this  nation  in  such  a  state,  as  no  friend  can  look  upon 
but  with  horrour,  and  scarce  an  enemy  Avithout  compassion, 
and  afterwards  of  diverting  himself  with  such  inadequate, 
impracticable,  puerile  methods  for  our  relief  ?  If  these  had 
been  the  dreams  of  some  unknown,  unnamed,  and  nameless 
writer,  they  would  excite  no  alarm  •,  their  weakness  had 
been  an  antidote  to  their  malignity.  But  as  they  are  uni- 
versally believed  to  be  written  by  the  hand,  or  what  amounts 
to  the  same  thing,  under  the  immediate  direction,  of  a  per- 
son who  has  been  in  the  management  of  the  highest  affiiirs, 
and  may  soon  be  in  the  same  situation,  I  think  it  is  not  to  be 
reckoned  amongst  our  greatest  consolations,  that  the  yet 
remaining  power  of  this  kingdom  is  to  be  employed  in  an  at- 
tempt to  realize  notions  that  are  at  once  so  frivolous,  and  so 
full  of  danger.  That  consideration  will  justify  me  in  dwell- 
ing a  little  longer  on  the  difficulties  of  the  nation,  and  the 
solutions  of  our  author. 

I  am  then  persuaded  that  he  cannot  be  in  the  least  alarmed 
about  our  situation,  let  his  outcry  be  what  he  pleases.  I  will 
give  him  a  reason  for  my  opinion,  which,  I  think,  he  cannot 
dispute.  All  that  he  bestows  upon  the  nation,  which  it 
does  not  possess  without  him,  and  supposing  it  all  sure  mon- 
ey, amounts  to  no  more   than  a  sum  of  ^^.300,000  a  year. 


STATE  OP  THE  NATION.  289 

This,  he  thinks,  will  do  the  business  completely,  and  ren-^ 
der  us  flourishing  at  home,  and  respectable  abroad.  If  the 
option  between  glory  and  shame,  if  our  salvation  or  destruc- 
tion, depended  on  this  sum,  it  is  impossible  that  he  should 
have  been  active,  and  made  a  merit  of  that  activity,  in  tak- 
ing off  a  shilling  in  the  pound  of  the  land  tax,  which  came 
up  to  his  grand  desideratum,  and  upwards  of  j^.  100,000 
more.  By  this  manoeuvre,  he  left  our  trade,  navigation, 
and  manufactures,  on  the  verge  of  destruction,  our  finances 
in  ruin,  our  credit  expiring,  Ireland  on  the  point  of  being 
ceded  to  France,  the  colonies  of  being  .torn  to  pieces,  the 
succession  of  the  crown  at  the  mercy  of  our  great  rival,  and 
the  kingdom  itself  on  the  very  point  of  becoming  tributary 
to  that  haughty  power.  All  this  for  want  of  j^. 3 00,000  ;  for 
I  defy  the  reader  to  point  out  any  other  revenue,  or  any 
other  precise  and  defined  scheme  of  politicks,  which  he  as- 
signs for  our  redemption. 

I  know  that  two  things  may  be  said  in  his  defence,  as  bad 
reasons  are  always  at  hand  in  an  indifferent  cause  ;  that  he 
was  not  sure  the  money  would  be  applied  as  he  thinks  it 
ought  to  be,  by  the  present  ministers.  I  think  as  ill  of  them 
as  he  does  to  the  full.  They  have  done  very  near  as  much 
mischief  as  they  can  do,  to  a  constitution  so  robust  as  this 
is.  Nothing  can  make  them  more  dangerous,  but  that,  as 
they  are  already  in  general  composed  of  his  disciples  and  in- 
struments, they  may  add  to  the  publick  calamity  of  their 
own  measures,  the  adoption  of  his  projects.  But  be  the 
ministers  what  they  may,  the  author  knows  that  they  could 
not  avoid  applying  this  ^.450,000  to  the  service  of  the  es- 
tablishment, as  faithfully  as  he,  or  any  other  minister,  could 
do.  I  say  they  could  not  avoid  it,  and  have  no  merit  at  all 
for  the  application.  But  supposing  that  they  should  greatly 
mismanage  this  revenue.  Here  is  a  good  deal  of  room  for 
mistake  and  prodigality  before  you  come  to  the  edge  of  ru- 
in. The  difference  between  the  amount  of  that  real  and  his 
imaginary  revenue  is,  ^.150,000  a  year,  at  least  ;  a  tolerable 
sum  for  them  to  play  with  :  this  might  compensate  the  dif- 
ference between  the  author's  economy  and  their  profusion  j 
and  still,  notwithstanding  their  vices  and  ignorance,  the  na- 

VOL.    I.  P    P 


290  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

tion  might  be  saved.  The  author  ought  also  to  recollect^ 
that  a  good  man  would  hardly  deny,  even  to  the  wor  t  of 
ministers,  the  means  of  doing  their  duty  ;  especially  in  a 
crisis  when  our  being  depended  on  supplying  them  with  some 
means  or  other.  In  such  a  case  their  penury  of  mind,  in 
discovering  resources,  would  make  it  rather  the  more  neces- 
sary, not  to  strip  such  poor  providers  of  the  little  stock  they 
had  in  hand. 

Besides,  here  is  another  subject  of  distress,  and  a  very  se- 
rious one,  which  puts  us  again  to  a  stand.  The  author  may 
possibly  not  come  into  power  (I  only  state  the  possibility)  : 
he  may  not  always  continue  in  it ;  and  if  the  contrary  to  all 
this  should  fortunately  for  us  happen,  what  insurance  on  his 
life  can  be  made  for  a  sum  adequate  to  his  loss  ?  Then  we 
are  thus  unluckily  situated,  that  the  chance  of  an  American 
and  Ii'ish  revenue  of  ^.300,000  to  be  managed  by  him,  is 
to  save  us  from  ruin  two  or  three  years  hence  at  best,  to 
make  us  happy  at  home  and  glorious  abroad  ;  and  the  actual 
possession  of  ^.400,000  English  taxes  cannot  so  much  as 
protract  our  ruin  without  him.  So  we  are  staked  on  four 
chances  ;  his  power,  its  permanence,  the  success  of  his  pro- 
jects, and  the  duration  of  his  life.  Any  one  of  these  fail- 
ing, we  are  gone.  Propria  hxc  si  dona  fuissent  !  This  is  no 
unfair  representation  ;  ultimately  all  hangs' on  his  life,  be- 
cause, in  his  account  of  every  set  of  men  that  have  held  or 
supported  administration,  he  finds  neither  virtue  nor  ability 
in  any  but  himself.  Indeed  he  pays  (through  their  meas- 
ures) some  compliments  to  Lord  Bute  and  Lord  Despenser. 
But  to  the  latter,  this  is,  I  suppose,  but  a  civility  to  old  ac- 
quaintance :  to  the  former,  a  little  stroke  of  politicks.  We 
may  therefore  fairly  say,  .that  our  only  hope  is  his  life  ;  and 
he  has,  to  make  it  the  more  so,  taken  care  to  cut  off  any  re- 
source which  we  possessed  independent  of  him. 

In  the  next  place  it  may  be  said,  to  excuse  any  appear- 
ance of  inconsistency  between  the  author's  actions  and  his 
declarations,  that  he  thought  it  right  to  relieve  the  landed 
interest,  and  lay  the  burthen  where  it  ought  to  lie,  on  the 
colonies.  What  !  to  take  off  a  revenue  so  necessary  to  our 
being,  before  any  thing  whatsoever  was  acquired  in  the  place 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  291 

of  it  ?  In  prudence,  he  ought  to  have  waited  at  least  for  the 
first  quarter's  receipt  of  the  new  anonymous    American  rev- 
Ciiue,  and  Irish  land  tax.     Is  there    something  so  speciiick 
for  our  disorders  in  American,  and  something  so    poisonous 
in  English  money,  that  one  is  to  heal,  the  other   to    destroy 
us  ?  To  say  that  the  landed  interest  could  not.  continue  to  pay 
it  for  a  year  or  two  longer,  is  more  than   the  author  will  at- 
tempt to  prove.     To  say  that  they  would  pay  it  no  longer, 
is  to  treat  the  landed  interest,  in  my  opinion,  very  scurvily. 
To  suppose  that  the  gentry,  clergy,  and  freeholders  of  Eno-- 
land  do  not  rate  the  commerce,  the  credit,  the  religion,  the 
liberty,  the  independency  of  their  country,    and  the  succes- 
sion of  their  crown,  at  a  shilling  in  the    pound  land    tax  ! 
They  never  gave  him  reason   to   think   so  meanly  of  them. 
And,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  when  that  measure   was   de- 
bated in  parliament,  a  very  different  reason  was  assigned  by 
the   author's  great  friend,  as  well  as  by  others,    for  that   re- 
duction :  one  very  different  from  the  critical   and  almost  des- 
perate state  of  our  finances.     Some  people  then  endeavoured 
to  prove,  that  the  reduction  might  be  made    without    detri- 
ment to  the  national  credit,  or  the  due  support  of   a  proper 
peace  establishment  ;  otherwise  it  is  obvious  that   the  reduc- 
tion could  not  be  defended  in  argument.     So  that  this  author 
cannot  despair  so  much  of  the  commonwealth,    without  this 
American  and  Irish  revenue,  as  he  pretends  to    do.     If  he 
does,  the  reader  sees  how  handsomely  he  has   provided  for 
us,  by  voting  away  one  revenue,  and  by  giving  us  a  pamphlet 
on  the  other. 

I  do  not  mean  to  blame  the  relief  which  was  then  given 
by  parliament  to  the  land.  It  was  grounded  on  very  weigh- 
ty reasons.  The  administration  contended  only  for  its  con- 
tinuance for  a  year,  in  order  to  have  the  merit  of  taking  off 
the  shilling  in  the  pound  immediately  before  the  elections  •, 
and  thus  to  bribe  the  freeholders  of  England  with  their  own 
money. 

It  is  true,  the  author,  in  his  estimate  of  ways  and  means, 
takes  credit  for  j^. 400,000  a  year,  Indian  revenue.  But  he 
will  not  very  positively  insist,  that  we  should  put  this  revenue 
to  the  account  of  his  plans  or  his  power  ;  and  for  a  very  plain 


292  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

reason  :  we  are  already  near  two  years  in  possession  of  it. 
By  what  means  we  came  to  that  possession,  is  a  pretty  long 
story  ;  however,  I  shall  give  nothing  more  than  a  short  ab- 
stract of  the  proceeding,  in  order  to  see  whether  the  author 
will  take  to  himself  any  part  in  that  measure. 

The  fact  is  this  ;  the  East  India  company  had  for  a  good 
while  solicited  the  ministry  for  a  negociation,  by  which  they 
proposed  to  pay  largely  for  some  advantages  in  their  trade, 
and  for  the  renewal  of  their  charter.  This  had  been  the 
former  method  of  transacting  with  that  body.  Government 
having  only  leased  the  monopoly  for  short  terms,  the  compa- 
ny has  been  obliged  to  resort  to  it  frequently  for  renewals. 
These  two  par;  ies  had  always  negociated  (on  the  true  princi- 
ple of  credit)  not  as  government  and  subject,  but  as  equal 
dealers,  on  the  footing  of  mutual  advantage.  The  publick 
had  derived  great  benefit  from  such  dealing.  But  at  that 
time  new  ideas  prevailed.  The  ministry,  instead  of  listen- 
ing to  the  proposals  of  that  company,  chose  to  set  up  a  claim 
of  the  crown  to  their  possessions.  The  original  plan  seems 
to  have  been,  to  get  the  house  of  commons  to  compliment 
the  crown  with  a  sort  of  juridical  declaration  of  a  title  to  the 
company's  acquisitions  in  India  j  which  the  crown,  on  its 
part,  with  the  best  air  in  the  world,  was  to  bestow  upon  the 
publick.  Then  it  would  come  to  the  turn  of  the  house  of 
comm.ons  again  to  be  liberal  and  grateful  to  the  crown.  The 
civil  list  debts  were  to  be  paid  off  •,  with  perhaps  a  pretty 
augmentation  of  income.  All  this  was  to  be  done  on  the 
most  publick-spirited  principles,  and  with  a  politeness  and 
mutual  interchange  of  good  offices,  that  could  not  but  have 
charmed.  But  what  was  best  of  all,  these  civilities  were  to 
be  without  a  farthing  of  charge  to  either  of  the  kind  and 
obliging  parties. — The  East  India  company  was  to  be  covered 
with  infamy  and  disgrace,  and  at  the  same  time  was  to  pay 
the  whole  bill. 

In  consequence  of  this  scheme,  the  terrours  of  a  parlia- 
mentary inquiry  were  hung  over  them.  A  judicature  was 
asserted  in  parliament  to  try  this  question.  But  lest  this  ju- 
dicial character  should  chance  to  inspire  certain  stubborn 
ideas  of  law  and  right,  it  was    argued,  that  the  judicature 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  293 

yras  arbitrary,  and  ought  not  to  determine  by  the  rules  of 
law,  but  by  their  opinion  of  policy  and  expediency.  Nothing 
exceeded  the  violence  of  some  of  the  managers,  except  their 
impotence.  They  were  bewildered  by  their  passions,  and 
by  their  want  of  knowledge  or  want  of  consideration  of  the 
subject.  The  more  they  advanced,  the  further  they  found 
themselves  from  their  object. — All  things  ran  into  confusion. 
The  ministers  quarrelled  among  themselves.  They  disclaim- 
ed one  another.  They  suspended  violence,  and  shrunk 
from  treaty.  The  inquiry  was  almost  at  its  last  gasp  ;  when 
some  active  persons  of  the  company  were  given  to  under- 
stand, that  this  hostile  proceeding  was  only  set  up  in  terro- 
rem  ;  that  government  was  far  from  an  intention  of  seizing 
upon  the  possessions  of  the  company.  Administration,  they 
said,  was  sensible,  that  the  ide  was  in  every  light  full  of  ab- 
surdity ;  and  that  such  a  seizure  was  not  more  out  of  their 
power,  than  remote  from  their  v/ishes  ;  and  therefore,  if 
the  company  would  come  in  a  manner  liberal  to  the  house, 
they  certainly  could  not  fail  of  putting  a  speedy  end  to  this 
disagreeable  business,  and  of  opening  the  way  to  an  advan- 
tageous treaty. 

On  this  hint  the  company  acted  :  they  came  at  once  to  a 
resolution  of  getting  rid  of  the  difficulties  which  arose  from 
the  complication  of  their  trade  with  their  revenue  j  a  step 
which  despoiled  them  of  their  best  defensive  armour,  and 
put  them  at  once  into  the  power  of  administration.  They 
threw  their  whole  stock  of  every  kind,  the  revenue,  the 
trade,  and  even  their  debt  from  government,  into  one  fund, 
which  they  computed  on  the  surest  grounds  would  amount 
to  ^.800,000,  with  a  large  probable  surplus  for  the  payment 
of  debt.  Then  they  agreed  to  divide  this  sum  in  equal  por- 
tions between  themselves  and  the  publick,  j^. 400,000  to 
each.  This  gave  to  the  proprietors  of  that  fund  an  aainual 
augmentation  of  no  more  than  j^. 80,000  dividend.  They 
ought  to  receive  from  government  j^.  120,000  for  the  loan 
of  their  capital.  So  that,  in  fact,  the  whole,  which  on  this 
plan  they  reserved  to  themselves,  from  their  vast  revenues, 
from  their  extensive  trade,  and  in  consideration  of  the  great 
risks  and  mighty  expenses  which  purchased  these   advanta- 


294f  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

ges,  amounted  to  no  more  than  ^^.280,000,  whilst   govern- 
ment was  to  receive,  as  I  said,  ^.4-00,000. 

This  proposal  was  thought  by  themselves  liberal   indeed , 
and  they  expected  the  highest   applauses   for  it.     However, 
their  reception  was    very  different   from    their  expectations. 
When  they  brought  up  their  plan  to  the  house  of  commons, 
the  offer,  as  it    was  natural,  of  j^. 400,000,  was    very   well 
relished.     But  nothing  could  be   more   disgustful    than   the 
j^.80,000  which  the  company  had  divided  amongst    them- 
selves.    A  violent  tempest  of  publick    indignation    and  fury 
rose  against  them.     The  heads  of  people  turned.     The  com- 
pany was  held  well  able  to  pay  ^.400,000  a  year  to  govern- 
ment ;  but  bankrupts,  if  they  attempted  to  divide  the  fifth 
part  of    it   among  themselves.     An  ex  post  facto  law    wasr 
brought  in  with  great  precipitation,  for    annulling  this  divi- 
dend.    In  the  bill  was  inserted   a  clause,  which  suspended 
for  about  a  year  the  right,  which,  under  the   publick  faith, 
the  company  enjoyed,  of  making  their  own  dividends.    Such 
was  the  disposition  and  temper  of  the   house,^that  although 
the  plain  face  of  facts,  reason,  arithmetick,  all  the  authori- 
ty, parts,  and  eloquence  in  the  kingdom,   were  against  this 
bill  ;  though  all  the  chancellors  of  the  exchequer,  who  had 
held  that  office  from  the  beginning  of  this  reign,  opposed  it ; 
yet  a  few  place-men  of  the  subordinate    departments  sprung 
out  of  their  ranks,  took  the  lead,  and,  by    an  opinion   of 
some  sort  of  secret  support^  carried  the  bill  with  a   high  hand, 
leaving  the  then  secretary  of  state  and  the  chancellor  of  the 
exchequer  in  a  very  moderate  minority.     In    this   distracted 
situation,  the   managers  of  the   bill,  notwithstanding   their 
triumph,  did  not  venture  to  propose  the  payment  of  the  civ- 
il list  debt.     The   chancellor  of  the   exchequer  was    not  in 
good  humour  enough,  after  his  late  defeat  by  his  own  troops, 
to  co-operate  in  such  a  design  j  so  they  made  an  act,  to  lock 
up  the  money  in  the  exchequer  until  they  should  have  time 
to  look  about  them,  and  settle  among  themselves  what  they 
were  to  do  with  it. 

Thus  ended  this  unparalleled  transaction.  The  author,  I 
believe,  will  not  claim  any  part  of  the  glory  of  it :  he  will 
leave  it  whole  and  entire  to  the  authors  of  the  measure.  The 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  295 

money  was  the  voluntary  free  gift  of  the  company ;  the  re- 
scinding bill  was  the  act  of  legislature,  to  which  they  and  we 
owe  submission  :  the  author  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  one 
or  with  the  other.  However,  he  cannot  avoid  rubbing  him- 
self against  this  subject  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  stirring 
controversies,  and  gratifying  a  certain  pruriency  of  taxation 
that  seems  to  infect  his  blood.  It  is  merely  to  indulge  himself 
in  speculations  of  taxing,  that  he  chooses  to  harangue  on  this 
subject.  For  he  takes  credit  for  no  greater  sum  than  the 
publick  is  already  in  possession  of.  He  does  not  hint  that 
the  company  means,  or  has  ever  shewn  any  disposition,  if 
managed  with  common  prudence,  to  pay  less  in  future  ;  and 
he  cannot  doubt  that  the  present  ministry  are  as  well  inclin- 
ed to  drive  them  by  their  mock  inquiries,  and  real  rescind- 
ing bills,  as  he  can  possibly  be  with  his  taxes.  Besides,  it  is 
obvious,  that  as  great  a  sum  might  have  been  drawn  from  that 
company,  without  affecting  property,  or  shaking  the  consti- 
tution, or  endangering  the  principle  of  publick  credit,  or 
running  into  his  golden  dreams  of  cockets  on  the  Ganges, 
or  visions  of  stamp  duties  on  Pervaunc^s^  Dustlcks,  Kistbun- 
deesy  and  Husbulhookums.  For  once,  I  will  disappoint  him  in 
this  part  of  the  dispute ;  and  only  in  a  very  few  words  rec- 
ommend to  his  consideration,  how  he  is  to  get  off  the  dan- 
gerous idea  of  taxing  a  publick  fund,  if  he  levies  those  du- 
ties in  England  ;  and  if  he  is  to  levy  them  in  India,  what 
provision  he  has  made  for  a  revenue  establishment  there ; 
supposing  that  he  undertakes  this  new  scheme  of  finance  in- 
dependently of  the  company,  and  against  its  inclinations. 

So  much  for  these  revenues  ;  which  are  nothing  but  his 
visions,  or  already  the  national  possessions  without  any  act 
of  his.  It  is  easy  to  parade  with  a  high  talk  of  parliament- 
ary rights,  of  the  universality  of  legislative  powers,  and  of 
uniform  taxation.  Men  of  sense,  when  new  projects  come 
before  them,  always  think  a  discourse  proving  the  mere  right 
or  mere  power  of  acting  in  the  manner  proposed,  to  be  no 
more  than  a  very  unpleasant  way  of  mis-spending  time.  They 
must  see  the  object  to  be  of  proper  magnitude  to  engage 
them ;  they  must  see  the  means  of  compassing  it  to  be  next 
to  certain  ;  the  mischiefs  not  to  counterbalance  the   profit ; 


296  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

they  will  examine  how  a  proposed  imposition  or  regulation 
agrees  with  the  opinion  of  those  who  are  likely  to  be  affect- 
ed by  it ;  they  will  not  despise  the  consideration  even  of  their 
habitudes  and  prejudices.  They  wish  to  know  how  it  ac- 
cords or  disagrees  with  the  true  spirit  of  prior  establishments, 
whether  of  government  or  of  finance ;  because  they  well 
know,  that  in  the  complicated  economy  of  great  kingdoms, 
and  immense  revenues,  which  in  a  length  of  time,  and  by  a 
variety  of  accidents,  have  coalesced  into  a  sort  of  body,  an 
attempt  towards  a  compulsory  equality  in  all  circumstances, 
and  an  exact  practical  definition  of  the  supreme  rights  in  ev- 
ery case,  is  the  most  dangerous  and  chimerical  of  all  enter- 
prises. The  old  building  stands  well  enough,  though  part 
Gothick,  part  Grecian,  and  part  Chinese,  until  an  attempt  is 
made  to  square  it  into  uniformity.  Then  it  may  come  down 
upon  our  heads  all  together,  in  much  uniformity  of  ruin  ; 
and  great  will  be  the  fall  thereof.  Some  people,  instead  of 
inclining  to  debate  the  matter,  only  feel  a  sort  of  nausea, 
when  they  are  told,  that  "  protection  calls  for  supply,"  and 
that  "  all  the  parts  ought  to  contribute  to  the  support  of  the 
whole."  Strange  argument  for  great  and  grave  delibera- 
tion !  As  if  the  same  end  may  not,  and  must  not,  be  com- 
passed, according  to  its  circumstances,  by  a  great  diversity  of 
ways.  Thus  in  Great  Britain  some  of  our  establishments  are 
apt  for  the  support  of  credit.  They  stand  therefore  upon  a 
principle  of  their  own,  distinct  from,  and  in  some  respects 
contrary  to,  the  relation  between  prince  and  subject.  It  is 
a  new  species  of  contract  superinduced  upon  the  old  contract 
of  the  state.  The  idea  of  power  must  as  much  as  possible 
be  banished  from  it ;  for  power  and  credit  are  things  ad- 
verse, incompatible  ;  Non  bene  conveniunty  nee  in  una  sede  mo- 
rantur.  Such  establishments  are  our  great  monied  compa- 
nies. To  tax  them  would  be  critical  and  dangerous,  and 
contradictory  to  the  very  purpose  of  their  institution  ;  which 
is  credit,  and  cannot  therefore  be  taxation.  But  the  nation, 
when  it  gave  up  that  power,  did  not  give  up  the  advantage ; 
but  supposed,  and  with  reason,  that  government  was  over- 
paid in  credit,  for  what  it  seemed  to  lose  in  authority.  In. 
such  a  case  to  talk  of  the  rights  of  sovereignty,  is  quite  idle. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  297 

Other  establishments  supply  other  modes  of  publick  contribu- 
tion. Our  trading  companies,  as  well  as^  individual  import- 
ers, are  a  fit  subject  of  revenue  by  customs.  Some  estab- 
lishments pay  us  by  a  monopoly  of  their  consumption  and  their 
produce.  This,  nominally  no  tax,  in  reality  comprehends 
all  taxes.  Such  establishments  are  our  colonies.  To  tax 
them  would  be  as  erroneous  in  policy,  as  rigorous  in  equity. 
Ireland  supphes  us  by  furnishing  troops  in  war  ;  and  by 
bearing  part  of  our  foreign  establishment  in  peace.  She 
aids  us  at  all  times  by  the  money  that  her  absentees  spend 
amongst  us  ;  which  is  no  small  part  of  the  rental  of  that 
kingdom.  Thus  Ireland  contributes  her  part.  Some  objects 
bear  port  duties.  Some  are  fitter  for  an  inland  excise.  The 
mode  varies,  the  object  is  the  same.  To  strain  these  from 
their  old  and  inveterate  leanings,  might  impair  the  old  bene- 
fit, and  not  answer  the  end  of  the  new  project.  Among  all 
the  great  men  of  antiquity,  Procrustes  shall  never  be  my  he- 
ro of  legislation  \  with  his  iron  bed,  the  allegory  of  his  gov- 
ernment, and  the  type  of  some  modern  policy,  by  which  the 
long  limb  was  to  be  cut  short,  and  the  short  tortured  into 
length.  Such  was  the  state-bed  of  uniformity  !  He  would, 
I  conceive,  be  a  very  indifferent  farmer,  who  complained  that 
his  sheep  did  not  plough,  or  his  horses  yield  him  wool, 
though  it  would  be  an  idea  full  of  equality.  They  may 
think  this  right  in  rustick  economy,  who  think  it  available  in 
the  politick  ; 

Qui  Bavium  non  odit.,  amet  tua  carmina^  Mxvi  ! 
Atque  idem  jimgat  ijulpes^  et  mulgeat  hircos. 

As  the  author  has  stated  this  Indian  taxation  for  no  visi- 
ble purpose  relative  to  his  plan  of  supply  j  so  he  has  stated 
many  other  projects  with  as  little,  if  any  distinct  end  ;  un- 
less perhaps  to  shew  you  how  full  he  is  of  projects  for  the 
publick  good ;  and  what  vast  expectations  may  be  formed 
of  him  or  his  friends,  if  they  should  be  translated  into  ad- 
ministration. It  is  always  from  some  opinion  that  these 
speculations  may  one  day  become  our  publick  measures,  that 
I  think  it  worth  while  to  trouble  the  reader  at  all  about  them. 

Vol.  I.  Q  Q 


298  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

Two  of  them  stand  out  in  high  relievo  beyond  the  rest. 
The  first  is  a  change  in  the  internal  representation  of  this 
country,  by  enlarging  our  number  of  constituents.     The  sec- 
ond is  an  addition  to  our  representatives,  by  new    American 
members  of  parliament.     I  pass  over  here  all  considerations 
how  far  such  a  system  will  be  an  improvement  of  our  consti- 
tution according   to  any  sound  theory.     Not  that  I  mean  to 
condemn  such  speculative  inquiries  concerning  this  great  ob- 
ject of  the  national  attention.     They  may  tend  to  clear  doubt- 
ful points,   and  possibly   may  lead,  as  they  have  often  done, 
to  real  improvements.     What  I  object  to,  is  their  Introduc- 
tion into  a  discourse  relating  to  the  immediate   state  of  our 
affairs,    and  recommending  plans  of  practical    government. 
In  this  view,  I  see   nothing   in  them  but  what  is  usual  with 
the  author ;  an  attempt  to  raise  discontent  in  the   people  of 
England,  to  balance   those  discontents  the  measures  of  his 
friends  had  already  raised  in  America.     What  other  reason 
can  he  have  for  suggesting,  that  we  are  not  happy  enough  to 
enjoy  a  sufficient  number  of  voters   in  England  ?    I  believe 
that  most  sober  thinkers  on  this  subject  are  rather   of  opin- 
ion, that  our  fault  is  on  the  other  side  j  and  that  it  would  be 
more   in  the  spirit  of  our   constitution,  and   m.ore  agreeable 
to  the  pattern  of  our  best  laws,  by  lessening  the  number,  to 
add  to  the  weight   and   independency   of  our  voters.     And 
truly,   considering    the   immense   and  dangerous  charge    of 
elections  ;  the  prostitute  and  daring  venality,  the  corruption 
of  manners,  the  idleness  and  profligacy  of  the  lower  sort  of 
voters,  no   prudent  man  would  propose  to  increase   such  an 
evil,  if  it  be,  as  I  fear  it  is,  out  of  our  power  to  administer 
to  it  any  remedy.     The  author  proposes  nothing  further.     If 
he  has  any  improvements  that  may  balance  or  may  lessen  this 
Inconvenience,  he  has  thought  proper  to  keep  them  as  usual 
in  his  own  breast.     Since  he  has  been  so  reserved,   I  should 
have  wished  he  had  been  as  cautious  with  regard  to  the  pro- 
ject Itself.     First,  because  he  observes  justly,  that  his  scheme, 
however   It  might  improve  the  platform,  can  add  nothing  to 
the  authority  of  the  legislature  ;  much,  I  fear,  it  will  have  a 
contrary  operation  :  for,  authority  depending  on  opinion  at 
least  as  much  as  on  duty,  an  Idea  circulated  among  the  peo- 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  299 

pie  that  our  constitution  is  not  so  perfect  as  it  ought  to  be, 
before  you  are  sure  of  mending  it,  is  a  certain  method  of 
lessening  it  in  the  publick  opinion.  Of  this  irreverent  opin- 
ion of  parhament,  the  author  himself  complains  in  one  part 
of  his  book  ;  and  he  endeavours  to  increase  it  in  the  other. 

Has  he  well  considered  what  an  immense  operation  any 
change  in  our  constitution  is  ?  how  many  discussions,  par- 
ties, and  passions,  it  will  necessarily  excite  ;  and,  when  you 
open  it  to  inquiry  in  one  part,  where  the  inquiry  will  stop  ? 
Experience  shews  us,  that  no  time  can  be  fit  for  such  chang- 
es but  a  time  of  general  confusion  ;  when  good  men,  find- 
ing every  thing  already  broke  up,  think  it  right  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  opportunity  of  such  derangement  in  favour 
of  an  useful  alteration.  Perhaps  a  time  of  the  greatest  se- 
curity and  tranquillity  both  at  home  and  abroad  may  likewise 
be  fit  J  but  will  the  author  affirm  this  to  be  just  such  a  time  ? 
Transferring  an  idea  of  military  to  civil  prudence,  he  ought 
to  know  how  dangerous  it  is  to  make  an  alteration  of  your 
disposition  in  the  face  of  an  enemy. 

Now  comes  his  American  representation.  Here  too,  as 
usual,  he  takes  no  notice  of  any  difficulty,  nor  says  any  thing 
to  obviate  those  objections  that  must  naturally  arise  in  the 
minds  of  his  readers.  He  throws  you  his  politicks  as  he 
does  his  revenue  ;  do  you  make  something  of  them  if  you 
can.  Is  not  the  reader  a  little  astonished  at  the  proposal  of 
an  American  representation  from  that  quarter  ?  It  is  propo- 
sed merely  as  a  *project  of  speculative  improvement ;  not 
from  the  necessity  in  the  case,  not  to  add  any  thing  to  the 
authority  of  parliament,  but  that  we  may  affiard  a  greater  at- 
tention to  the  concerns  of  the  Americans,  and  give  them  a 
better  opportunity  of  stating  their  grievances,  and  of  obtain- 
ing redress.  I  am  glad  to  find  the  author  has  at  length  dis- 
covered that  we  have  not  given  a  sufficient  attention  to  their 
concerns,  or  a  proper  redress  to  their  grievances.  His  great 
friend  would  once  have  been  exceedingly  displeased  with  any 
person,  who  should  tell  him,  that  he  did  not  attend  suffi- 
ciently to  those  concerns.     He  thought  he   did  so,  when  he 

*  P.  89,  40. 


300  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

regulated  the  colonies  over  and  over  again :  he  thought  he 
did  so,  when  he  formed  tv;o  general  systems  of  revenue  ;  one 
of  port-duties,  and  the  other  of  internal  taxation.  These 
systems  supposed,  or  ought  to  suppose,  the  greatest  attention 
to,  and  the  most  detailed  information  of,  all  their  affairs. 
However,  by  contending  for  the  American  representation, 
he  see.ns  at  last  driven  virtually  to  admit,  that  great  caution 
ought  to  be  used  in  the  exercise  of  all  our  legislative  rights 
over  an  object  so  remote  from  our  eye,  and  so  little  connect- 
ed with  our  immediate  feelings  ;  that  in  prudence  we  ought 
not  to  be  quite  so  ready  with  our  taxes,  until  we  can 
secure  the  desired  representation  in  Parliament.  Perhaps  it 
may  be  some  time  before  this  hopeful  scheme  can  be  brought 
to  perfect  maturity,  although  the  author  seems  to  be  no  wise 
aware  of  any  obstructions  that  lie  in  the  way  of  it.  He  talks 
of  his  union,  just  as  he  does  of  his  taxes  and  his  savings,  with  as 
much  sangfroid  and  ease,  as  if  his  wish  and  the  enjoym.ent 
were  exactly  the  same  thing.  He  appears  not  to  have  troub- 
led his  head  with  the  infinite  difficulty  of  settling  that  rep- 
resentation on  a  fair  balance  of  wealth  and  numbers  through- 
out the  several  provinces  of  America  and  the  West  Indies, 
under  such  an  infinite  variety  of  circumstances.  It  costs 
hi  n  nothing  to  fight  with  nature,  and  to  conquer  the  order 
of  Providence,  which  manifestly  opposes  itself  to  the  possi- 
bility of  such  a  parliamentary  union. 

Bat  let  us,  to  indulge  his  passion  for  projects  and  power, 
suppose  the  happy  time  arrived,  when  the  author  comes  into 
the  ministry,  and  is  to  realize  his  speculations.  The  writs 
are  issued  for  electing  members  for  America  and  the  West 
Indies.  Some  provinces  receive  them  in  six  weeks,  some  in 
ten,  some  in  twenty.  A  vessel  may  be  lost,  and  then  some 
provinces  may  not  receive  them  at  all.  But  let  it  be,  that 
they  all  receive  them  at  once,  and  in  the  shortest  time.  A 
proper  space  must  be  given  for  proclamation  and  for  the  elec- 
tion ;  some  weeks  at  least.  But  the  members  are  chosen ; 
and,  if  ships  are  ready  to  sail,  in  about  six  more  they  arrive 
in  London.  In  the  mean  time  the  parfiament  has  sat  and 
business  far  advanced  without  American  representatives. 
Nay  by  this  time,  it  may  happen,  that  the  parliament  is  dis» 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  301 

solved ;  and  then  the  members  ship  themselves  again,  to  be 
again  elected.  The  writs  may  arrive  in  America,  before  the 
poor  members  of  a  parliament  in  which  they  never  sat,  can 
arrive  at  their  several  provinces.  A  new  interest  is  formed, 
and  they  find  other  members  are  chosen  whilst  they  are  on 
the  high  seas.  But,  if  the  writs  and  members  arrive  togeth- 
er, Uere  is  at  best  a  new  trial  of  skill  amongst  the  candidates, 
after  one  set  of  them  have  well  aired  themselves  with  their 
two  voyages  of  6000  miles. 

However,  in  order  to  facilitate  every  thing  to  the  author, 
we  wiii  suppo.se  them  all  once  more  elected,  and  steering 
again  to  Old  England,  with  a  good  heart,  and  a  fair  westerly 
wind  in  their  stern.  On  their  arrival,  they  find  all  in  a  hur- 
ry and  bustle  ;  in  and  out ;  condolence  and  congratulation  j 
the  crown  is  demised.  Another  parliament  is  to  be  called. 
Away  back  to  America  again  on  a  fourth  voyage,  and  to  a 
third  election.  Does  the  author  mean  to  make  our  kings  as 
immortal  in  their  personal  as  in  their  politick  character  ?  or, 
whilst  he  bountifully  adds  to  their  life,  will  he  take  from 
them  their  prerogative  of  dissolving  parliaments,  in  favour 
of  the  American  union  ?  or  are  the  American  representatives 
to  be  perpetual,  and  to  feel  neither  demises  of  the  crown,  nor 
dissolutions  of  parliament  ? 

But  these  things  may  be  granted  to  him,  without  bring- 
ing him  much  nearer  to  his  point.  What  does  he  think  of 
re-election  ?  is  the  American  member  the  only  one  who  is 
not  to  take  a  place,  or  the  only  one  to  be  exempted  from  the 
ceremony  of  re-election?  How  will  this  great  politician  pre- 
serve the  rights  of  electors,  the  fairness  of  returns,  and  the 
privilege  of  the  house  of  commons,  as  the  sole  judge  of  such 
contests  ?  It  would  undoubtedly  be  a  glorious  sight  to  have 
eight  or  ten  petitions,  or  double  returns,  from  Boston  and 
Barbadoes,  from  Philadelphia  and  Jamaica,  the  members  re- 
turned, and  the  petitioners,  with  all  their  train  of  attornies, 
solicitors,  mayors,  select  men,  provost-marshals,  and  above 
five  hundred  or  a  thousand  witnesses,  come  to  the  bar  of  the 
house  of  commons.  Possibly  we  might  be  interrupted  in 
the  enjoyment  of  this  pleasing  spectacle,  if  a  war  should 
break  out,  and  our  constitutional  fleet,  loaded  with  members 


302  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

of  parliament,  returning  officers,  petitions,  and  witnesses,  the 
electors  and  elected,  should  become  a  prize  to  the  French  or 
Spaniards,  and  be  conveyed  to  Carthagena  or  to  La  Vera 
Cruz,  and  from  thence  perhaps  to  Mexico  or  Lima,  there  to 
remain  until  a  cartel  for  members  of  parliament  can  be  set- 
tled, or  until  the  war  is  ended. 

In  truth,  the  author  has  little  studied  this  business ;  or 
he  might  have  known,  that  some  of  the  most  considerable 
provinces  of  America,  such  for  instance  as  Connecticut  and 
Massachusetts  Bay,  have  not  in  each  of  them  two  men  who 
can  afford,  at  a  distance  from  their  estates,  to  spend  a  thou- 
sand pounds  a  year.  How  can  these  provinces  be  represent- 
ed at  Westminster  ?  If  their  province  pays  them,  they  are 
American  agents,  with  salaries,  and  not  independent  mem- 
bers of  parliament.  It  is  true,  that  formerly  in  England 
members  had  salaries  from  their  constituents;  but  they  ail 
had  salaries,  and  were  all,  in  this  way,  upon  a  par.  If  these 
American  representatives  have  no  salaries,  then  they  must 
add  to  the  list  of  our  pensioners  and  dependants  at  court,  or 
they  must  starve.     There  is  no  alternative. 

Enough  of  this  visionary  union  ;  in  which  much  extrava- 
gance appears  without  any  fancy,  and  the  judgment  is  shock- 
ed without  any  thing  to  refresh  the  imagination.  It  looks 
as  if  the  author  had  dropped  down  from  the  moon,  without 
any  knowledge  of  the  general  nature  of  this  globe,  of  the 
general  nature  of  its  inhabitants,  without  the  least  acquaint- 
ance with  the  affairs  of  this  country.  Governor  Pownal  has 
handled  the  same  subject.  To  do  him  justice,  he  treats  it 
upon  far  more  rational  principles  of  speculation ;  and  much 
more  like  a  man  of  business.  He  thinks  (erroneously,  I 
conceive  ;  but  he  does  think)  that  our  legislative  rights  are 
incomplete  without  such  a  representation.  It  is  no  Avonder, 
therefore,  that  he  endeavours  by  every  means  to  obtain  it. 
Not  like  our  author,  who  is  always  on  velvet,  he  is  aware  of 
some  difficulties ;  and  he  proposes  some  solutions.  But  na- 
ture is  too  hard  for  both  these  authors  ;  and  America  is,  and 
ever  will  be,  without  actual  representation  in  the  house  of 
commons ;  nor  will  any  minister  be  wild  enough  even  to  pro- 
pose such  a  representation  in  parliament ;  however  he  may 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  303 

choose  to  throw  out  that  project,  together  with  others  equal- 
ly far  from  his  real  opinions  and  remote  from  his  designs, 
merely  to  fall  in  with  the  different  views,  and  captivate  the 
affections,  of  different  sorts  of  men. 

Whether  these  projects  arise  from  the  author's  real  politi- 
cal principles,  or  are  only  brought  out  in  subservience  to  his 
political  views,  they  compose  the  whole  of  any  thing  that  is 
like  precise  and  definite,  which  the  author  has  given  us  to 
expect  from  that  administration  which  is  so  much  the  sub- 
ject of  his  praises  and  prayers.  As  to  his  general  proposi- 
tions, that  "  there  is  a  deal  of  difference  between  impossibil- 
ities and  great  difficulties  ;"  that  "  a  great  scheme  cannot  be 
carried,  unless  made  the  business  of  successive  administra- 
tions i"  that  "  virtuous  and  able  men  are  the  fittest  to  serve 
their  country ;"  all  this  I  look  on  as  no  more  than  so  much 
rubble  to  fill  up  the  spaces  between  the  regular  masonry. 
Pretty  much  in  the  same  light  I  cannot  forbear  considering 
his  detached  observations  on  commerce  ;  such  as,  that  *"  the 
system  for  colony  regulations  would  be  very  simple,  andmu. 
tually  beneficial  to  Great  Britain  and  her  colonies,  if  the  old 
navigation  laws  were  adhered  to."  That  *'  the  transportation 
should  be  in  all  cases  in  ships  belonging  to  British  subjects." 
That  "  even  British  ships  should  not  be  generally  received  in- 
to the  colonies  from  any  part  of  Europe,  except  the  domin- 
ions of  Great  Britain."  That  "  it  is  unreasonable  that  corn 
and  such  like  products  should  be  restrained  to  come  first  to  a 
British  port."  What  do  all  these  fine  observations  signify  ? 
Some  of  them  condemn  as  ill  practices,  things  that  were 
never  practised  at  all.  Some  recommend  to  be  done,  things 
that  always  have  been  done.  Others  indeed  convey,  though, 
obliquely  and  loosely,  some  insinuations  highly  dangerous  to 
our  commerce.  If  I  could  prevail  on  myself  to  think  the 
author  meant  to  ground  any  practice  upon  these  general 
propositions,  I  should  think  it  very  necessary  to  ask  a  few 
questions  about  some  of  them.  For  instance,  what  does  he 
mean  by  talking  of  an  adherence  to  the  old  navigation  laws  r 
does  he  mean,  that  the  particular  law,  12   Car.    II.   c.    19, 


P.  30. 


304f  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

commonly  called  "The  Act  of  Navigation,"  is  to  be  adher- 
ed to,  and  that  the  several  subsequent  additions,  amendments, 
and  exceptions,  ought  to  be  all  repealed  ?  If  so,  he  will  make 
a  strange  havock  in  the  whole  system  of  our  trade  laws, 
which  have  been  universally  acknowledged  to  be  full  as  well 
founded  in  the  alterations  and  exceptions,  as  the  act  of 
Charles  the  Second  in  the  original  provisions;  and  to  pursue 
full  as  wisely  the  great  end  of  that  very  poUtick  law,  the  in- 
crease of  the  British  navigation.  I  fancy  the  writer  could 
hardly  propose  any  thing  more  alarming  to  those  immediate- 
ly interested  in  that  navigation  than  such  a  repeal.  If  he 
does  not  mean  this,  he  has  got  no  farther  than  a  nugatory 
proposition,  which  nobody  can  contradict,  and  for  which  no 
man  is  the  wiser. 

That  "  the  regulations  for  the  colony  trade  would  be  few 
and  simple  if  the  old  navigation-laws  were  adhered  to,"  I 
utterly  deny  as  a  fact.  That  they  ought  to  be  so,  sounds 
well  enough  ;  but  this  proposition  is  of  the  same  nugatory 
nature  with  some  of  the  former.  The  regulations  for  the 
colony  trade  ought  not  to  be  more  nor  fewer,  nor  more  nor 
less  complex,  than  the  occasion  requires.  And,  as  that  trade 
is  in  a  great  measure  a  system  of  art  and  restriction,  they  can 
neither  be  few  nor  simple.  It  is  true,  that  the  very  princi- 
ple may  be  destroyed,  by  multiplying  to  excess  the  means  of 
securing  it.  Never  did  a  minister  depart  more  from  the  au- 
thor's ideas  of  simplicity,  or  more  embarrass  the  trade  of 
America  with  the  multiplicity  and  intricacy  of  regulations 
and  ordinances,  than  his  boasted  minister  of  1764.  That 
minister  seemed  to  be  possessed  with  something,  hardly  short 
of  a  rage,  for  regulation  and  restriction.  He  had  so  multi- 
plied bonds,  certificates,  affidavits,  warrants,  sufferances,  and 
cockets  ;  had  supported  them  with  such  severe  penalties,  and 
extended  them  without  the  least  consideration  of  circumstan- 
ces to  so  many  objects,  that,  had  they  all  continued  in  their 
original  force,  commerce  must  speedily  have  expired  under 
them.  Some  of  them,  the  ministry  which  gave  them  birth 
was  obliged  to  destroy  :  with  their  own  hand  they  signed  the 
condemnation  of  their  own  regulations  ;  confessing  in  so  ma- 
ny words,  in  the  preamble  of  their  act  of  the  5th  Geo.  III. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION,  S05 

that  some  of  these  regulations  had  laid  an  unnecessary  re- 
straint on  the  trade  and  correspondence  of  his  Majesty  s  Afnerican 
subjects.  This,  in  that  ministry,  was  a  candid  confession  of 
a  mistake :  but  every  alteration  made  in  those  regulations  by 
their  successors  is  to  be  the  effect  of  envy,  and  American 
misrepresentation.  So  much  for  the  author's  simplicity  in 
regulation. 

I  have  now  gone  through  all  which  I  think  immediately 
essential  in  the  author's  idea  of  war,  of  peace,  of  the  com- 
parative states  of  England  and  France,  of  our  actual  situation  ; 
in  his  projects  of  economy,  of  finance,  of  commerce,  and  of 
constitutional  improvement.  There  remains  nothing  now 
to  be  considered,  except  his  heavy  censures  upon  the  admin- 
istration which  was  formed  iii  1765;  which  is  commonly 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham's  ad- 
ministration, as  the  administration  which  preceded  it  is  by 
that  of  Mr.  Grenville.  These  censures  relate  chiefly  to 
three  heads  :  1.  To  the  repeal  of  the  American  stamp  act. 
2.  To  the  commercial  regulations  then  made.  3.  To  the 
course  of  foreign  negotiations  during  that  short  period. 

A  person  who  knew  nothing  of  publick  affairs  but  from 
the  writings  of  this  author  would  be  led  to  conclude,  that, 
at  the  time  of  the  change  in  June  1765,  some  well-digested 
system  of  administration,  founded  in  national  strength,  and 
in  the  affections  of  the  people,  proceeding  in  all  points  with 
the  most  reverential  and  tender  regard  to  the  laws,  and  pur- 
suing  with  equal  wisdom  and  success  every  thing  which  could 
tend  to  the  internal  prosperity,  and  to  the  external  honour 
and  dignity  of  this  country,  had  been  all  at  once  subverted, 
by  an  irruption  of  a  sort  of  wild,  licentious,  unprincipled  in- 
vaders, who  wantonly,  and  with  a  barbarous  rage,  had  defac- 
ed a  thousand  fair  monuments  of  the  constitutional  and  po- 
litical skill  of  their  predecessors.  It  is  natural  indeed  that 
this  author  should  have  some  dislike  to  the  administration 
which  was  formed  in  1765.  Its  views  in  most  things  were 
different  from  those  of  his  friends  ;  in  some,  altogether  op- 
posite to  them.  It  is  impossible  that  both  of  these  adminis- 
trations should  be  the  objects  of  publick  esteem.  Their  dif- 
ferent principles  compose  some  of  the  strongest  political  lines 
Vol.  I.  R  R 


306  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

which  discrimhiate  the  parties  even  now  subsisting  amongst 
us.  The  ministers  of  1761-  are  not  indeed  followed  by  very 
many  in  their  opposition  :  yet  a  large  part  of  the  people  now 
in  office  entertain,  or  pretend  to  entertain,  sentiments  entire- 
ly conformable  to  theirs  -,  whilst  some  of  the  former  col- 
leagues of  the  ministry  which  was  formed  in  1765,  however 
they  may  have  abandoned  the  connexion,  and  contradicted 
by  their  conduct  the  principles  of  their  former  friends,  pre- 
tend, on  their  parts,  still  to  adhere  to  the  same  maxims.  All 
the  lesser  divisions,  which  are  indeed  rather  names  of  person- 
al attachment  than  of  party  distinction,  fall  in  with  the  one 
or  the  other  of  these  leading  parties. 

I  intend  to  state,  as  shortly  as  I  am  able,  the  general  con- 
dition of  publick  affairs,  and  the  disposition  of  the  minds  of 
men,  at  the  time  of  the  remarkable  change  of  system  in 
1765.  The  reader  will  have  thereby  a  more  distinct  view 
of  the  comparative  merits  of  these  several  plans,  and  will  re- 
ceive more  satisfaction  concerning  the  ground  and  reason  of 
the  measures  which  were  then  pursued,  than,  I  believe,  can 
be  derived  from  the  perusal  of  those  partial  representations 
contained  in  the  State  of  the  Nation,  and  the  other  writings 
of  those  who  have  continued,  for  now  near  three  years,  in 
the  undisturbed  possession  of  the  press.  This  will,  I  hope, 
be  some  apology  for  my  dwelling  a  little  on  this  part  of  the 
subject. 

On  the  resignation  of  the  Earl  of  Bute,  in  1763,  our  af- 
fairs had  been  delivered  into  the  hands  of  three  ministers  of 
his  recommendation ;  Mr.  Grenville,  the  Earl  of  Egremont, 
and  the  Earl  of  Halifax.  This  arrangement,  notwithstand- 
ing the  retirement  of  Lord  Bute,  announced  to  the  publick 
a  continuance  of  the  same  measures  j  nor  was  there  more 
reason  to  expect  a  change  from  the  death  of  the  Earl  of 
Egremont.  The  Earl  of  Sandwich  supplied  his  place.  The 
Duke  of  Bedford,  and  the  gentlemen  who  act  in  that  con- 
nexion, and  whose  general  character  and  politicks  were  suffi- 
ciently understood,  added  to  the  strength  of  the  ministry, 
without  making  any  alteration  in  their  plan  of  conduct. 
Such  was  the  constitution  of  the  ministry  which  was  changed 
in  1765. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  307 

As  to  their  politicks,  the  principles  of  the  peace  of  Paris 
governed  in  foreign  affairs.  In  domestick,  the  same  scheme 
prevailed,  of  contradicting  the  opinions,  and  disgracing  most 
of  the  persons,  who  had  been  countenanced  and  employed 
in  the  late  reign.  The  inclinations  of  the  people  were  little 
attended  to  ;  and  a  disposition  to  the  use  of  forcible  methods 
ran  through  the  whole  tenour  of  administration.  The  na- 
tion in  general  was  uneasy  and  dissatisfied.  Sober  men  saw 
causes  for  it,  in  the  constitution  of  the  ministry  and  the  con- 
duct of  the  ministers.  The  ministers,  who  have  usually  a 
short  method  on  such  occasions,  attributed  their  unpopulari- 
ty wholly  to  the  efforts  of  faction.  However  this  might  be, 
the  licentiousness  and  tumults  of  the  common  people,  and 
the  contempt  of  government,  of  which  our  author  so  oft- 
en and  so  bitterly  complains,  as  owing  to  the  mismanage- 
ment of  the  subsequent  administrations,  had  at  no  time  risen 
to  a  greater  or  more  dangerous  height.  The  measures  taken 
to  suppress  that  spirit  were  as  violent  and  licentious  as  the 
spirit  itself  J  injudicious,  precipitate,  and  some  of  them  ille- 
gal. Instead  of  allaying,  they  tended  infinitely  to  inflame 
the  distemper ;  and  whoever  will  be  at  the  least  pains  to  ex- 
amine, will  find  those  measures,  not  only  the  causes  of  the 
tumults  which  then  prevailed,  but  the  real  sources  of  almost 
all  the  disorders  which  have  arisen  since  that  time.  More 
intent  on  making  a  victim  to  party  than  an  example  of  jus- 
tice, they  blundered  in  the  method  of  pursuing  their  ven- 
geance. By  this  means  a  discovery  was  made  of  many  practi- 
ces, common  indeed  in  the  office  of  secretary  of  state,  but 
wholly  repugnant  to  our  laws,  and  the  genius  of  the  English 
constitution.  One  of  the  worst  of  these  was,  the  wanton 
and  indiscriminate  seizure  of  papers,  even  in  cases  where  the 
safety  of  the  state  was  not  pretended  in  justification  of  so 
harsh  a  proceeding.  The  temper  of  the  ministry  had  excit- 
ed a  jealousy,  which  made  the  people  more  than  commonly 
vigilant  concerning  every  power  which  was  exercised  by 
government.  The  abuse,  however  sanctioned  by  custom, 
was  evident ;  but  the  ministry,  instead  of  resting  in  a  pru- 
dent inactivity,  or  (what  would  have  been  still  more  prudent) 
taking  the  lead,  in  quieting  the  minds  of  the  people,   and  as* 


j^OS  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

certaining  the  law  upon  those  delicate  points,  made  use  of 
the  whole  influence  of  government  to  prevent  a  parhament- 
ary  resolution  against  these  practices  of  ofiace.  And  lest  the 
colourable  reasons,  offered  in  argument  against  this  parlia- 
mentary procedure,  should  be  mistaken  for  the  real  motives 
of  their  conduct,  all  the  advantage  of  privilege,  all  the  arts 
and  finesses  of  pleading,  and  great  sums  of  publick  money 
were  lavished,  to  prevent  any  decision  upon  those  practices 
in  the  courts  of  justice.  In  the  mean  time,  in  order  to 
weaken,  since  they  could  not  immediately  destroy,  the  liber- 
ty of  the  press,  the  privilege  of  parliament  was  voted  away 
in  all  accusations  for  a  seditious  libel.  The  freedom  of  de- 
bate in  parliament  itself  was  no  less  menaced.  Officers  of 
the  army,  of  long  and  meritorious  service,  and  of  small  for- 
tunes, were  chosen  as  victims  for  a  single  vote,  by  an  exer- 
tion of  ministerial  power,  which  had  been  very  rarely  used, 
and  wliich  is  extremely  unjust,  as  depriving  men  not  only 
of  a  place,  but  a  profession,  and  is  indeed  of  the  most  perni- 
cious example  both  in  a  civil  and  military  light. 

Whilst  all  things  were  managed  at  home  with  such  a  spir- 
it of  disorderly  despotism  j  abroad  there  was  a  proportiona- 
ble abatement  of  all  spirit.  Some  of  our  most  just  and  valu- 
able claims  were  in  a  manner  abandoned.  This  indeed  seem- 
ed not  very  inconsistent  conduct  in  the  ministers  who  had 
made  the  treaty  of  Paris.  With  regard  to  our  domestick  af- 
fairs, there  was  no  want  of  industry ;  but  there  was  a  great 
deficiency  of  temper  and  judgment,  and  manly  comprehen- 
X.  sion  of  the  publick  interest.  The  nation  certainly  wanted 
relief,  and  government  attempted  to  administer  it.  Two 
ways  were  principally  chosen  for  this  great  purpose.  The 
first  by  regulation  j  the  second  by  new  funds  of  revenue. 
Agreeably  to  this  plan,  a  new  naval  establishment  was  form- 
ed at  a  good  deal  of  expense,  and  to  little  effect,  to  aid  in 
the  collection  of  the  customs.  Regulation  was  added  to  reg- 
ulation ;  and  the  strictest  and  most  unreserved  orders  were 
given,  for  a  prevention  of  all  contraband  trade  here,  and  in 
every  part  of  Atnerica.  A  teasing  custom-house,  and  a  mul- 
tiphcity  of  perplexing  regulations,  evei*  have,  and  ever  will 
appear,  the  master-piece   of  finance   to    people    of  narrow 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  ^^QQ 

views  i  as  a  paper  against  smuggling,  and  the  importation  of 
French  finery,  never  fails  of  furnishing  a  very  popular  column 
in  a  newspaper. 

The  greatest  part  of  these  regulations  were  made  for  A- 
merica  ;  and  they  fell  so  indiscriminately  on  all  sorts  of  con- 
traband, or  supposed  contraband,  that  some  of  the  most  valu- 
able branches  of  trade  were  driven  violently  from  our  ports  ; 
which  caused  an  universal  consternation  throughout  the  col- 
onies. Every  part  of  the  trade  was  infinitely  distressed  by 
them.  Men  of  war  now  for  the  first  time,  armed  with  reg- 
ular commissions  of  custom-house  officers,  invested  the  coasts, 
and  gave  to  the  collection  of  revenue  the  air  of  hostile  con- 
tribution. About  the  same  time  that  these  regulations 
seemed  to  threaten  the  destruction  of  the  only  trade  from 
whence  the  plantations  derived  any  specie,  an  act  was  made, 
putting  a  stop  to  the  future  emission  of  paper  currency, 
which  used  to  supply  its  place  among  them.  Hand  in  hand 
with  this  went  another  act,  for  obliging  the  colonies  to  pro- 
vide quarters  for  soldiers.  Instantly  followed  another  law, 
for  levying  throughout  all  America  new  port  duties,  upon  a 
vast  variety  of  commodities  of  their  consumption,  and  some 
of  which  lay  heavy  upon  objects  necessary  for  their  trade 
and  fishery.  Immediately  upon  the  heels  of  these,  and 
amidst  the  uneasiness  and  confusion  produced  by  a  crowd  of 
new  impositions  and  regulations,  some  good,  some  evil,  some 
doubtful,  all  crude  and  ill-considered,  came  another  act,  for 
-imposing  an  universal  stamp  duty  on  the  colonies;  and  this 
was  declared  to  be  little  more  than  an  experiment,  and  a 
foundation  of  future  revenue.  To  render  these  proceedings 
the  more  irritating  to  the  colonies,  the  principal  argument 
used  in  favour  of  their  ability  to  pay  such  duties  was  the  lib- 
erality of  the  grants  of  their  assemblies  during  the  late  war. 
Never  could  any  argument  be  more  insulting  and  mortify- 
ing to  a  people  habituated  to  the  granting  of  their  own 
money. 

Taxes  for  the  purpose  of  raising  revenue  had  hitherto 
been  sparingly  attempted  in  America.  Without  ever  doubt- 
ing the  extent  of  its  lawful  power,  parliament  always  doubted 
the  propriety  of  such   impositions.     And  the  Americans  on 


310  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

their  part  never  thought  of  contesting  a  right  by  which  they 
were  so  little  affected.  Their  assemblies  in  the  main  an- 
swered all  the  purposes  necessary  to  the  internal  economy 
of  a  free  people,  and  provided  for  all  the  exigencies  of  gov- 
ernment which  arose  amongst  themselves.  In  the  midst  of 
that  happy  enjoyment,  they  never  thought  of  critically  set- 
tling the  exact  limits  of  a  power,  which  was  necessary  to 
their  union,  their  safety,  their  equality,  and  even  their  lib- 
erty. Thus  the  two  very  difficult  points,  superiority  in  the 
presiding  state,  and  freedom  in  the  subordinate,  were  on  the 
whole  sufficiently,  that  is,  practically,  reconciled  ;  without 
agitating  those  vexatious  questions,  which  in  truth  rather 
belong  to  metaphysicks  than  politicks,  and  which  can  never 
be  moved  without  shaking  the  foundations  of  the  best  gov- 
ernments that  have  ever  been  constituted  by  human  wisdom. 
By  this  measure  was  let  loose  that  dangerous  spirit  of  disqui- 
sition, not  in  the  coolness  of  philosophical  inquiry,  but  in- 
flamed with  all  the  passions  of  an  haughty  resentful  peo- 
ple, who  thought  themselves  deeply  injured,  and  that  they 
were  contending  for  every  thing  that  was  valuable  in  the 
world. 

In  England,  our  ministers  went  on  without  the  least  atten- 
tion to  these  alarming  dispositions ;  just  as  if  they  were  do- 
ing the  most  common  things  in  the  most  usual  way,  and 
among  a  people  not  only  passive  but  pleased.  They  took 
no  one  step  to  divert  the  dangerous  spirit  which  began  even 
then  to  appear  in  the  colonies,  to  compromise  with  it,  to 
mollify  it,  or  to  subdue  it.  No  new  arrangements  were  made 
in  civil  government ;  no  new  powers  or  instructions  were 
given  to  governours  •,  no  augmentation  was  made,  or  new 
disposition,  of  forces.  Never  was  so  critical  a  measure  pur- 
sued with  so  little  provision  against  its  necessary  consequen- 
ces. As  if  all  common  prudence  had  abandoned  the  minis- 
ters, and  as  if  they  meant  to  plunge  themselves  and  us  head- 
long into  that  gulph  which  stood  gaping  before  them  ;  by 
giving  a  year's  notice  of  the  project  of  their  stamp-act,  they 
allowed  time  for  all  the  discontents  of  that  country  to  fester 
and  come  to  a  head,  and  for  all  the  arrangements  Which 
factious  men  could  make  towards  an  opposition  to  the  law. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  511 

At  the  same  time  they  carefully  concealed  from  the  eye  of 
parliament  those  remonstrances  which  they  had  actually  re- 
ceived ;  and  which  in  the  strongest  manner  indicated  the 
discontent  of  some  of  the  colonies,  and  the  consequences 
which  might  be  expected  ;  they  concealed  them,  even  in  de- 
fiance of  an  order  of  council,  that  they  should  be  laid  before 
parliament.  Thus,  by  concealing  the  true  state  of  the  case, 
they  rendered  the  wisdom  of  the  nation  as  improvident  as 
their  own  temerity,  either  in  preventing  or  guarding  against 
the  mischief.  It  has  indeed,  from  the  beginning  to  this 
hour,  been  the  uniform  policy  of  this  set  of  men,  in  order, 
at  any  hazard  to  obtain  a  present  credit,  to  propose  whatever 
might  be  pleasing,  as  attended  with  no  difficiilty ;  and  after- 
wards to  throw  all  the  disappointment  of  the  wild  expecta- 
tions they  had  raised,  upon  those  who  have  the  hard  task  of 
freeing  the  publick  from  the  consequences  of  their  perni- 
cious projects. 

Wiiilst  the  commerce  and  tranquillity  of  the  whole  empire 
were  shaken  in  this  manner,  our  affairs  grew  still  more  dis- 
tracted by  the  internal  dissensions  of  our  ministers.  Treach- 
ery and  ingratitude  was  charged  from  one  side  ;  despotism 
and  tyranny  from  the  other  ;  the  vertigo  of  the  regency 
bill  j  the  awkward  reception  of  the  silk  bill  in  the  house  of 
commons,  and  the  inconsiderate  and  abrupt  rejection  of  it  in 
the  house  of  lords ;  the  strange  and  violent  tumults  which 
arose  in  consequence,  and  which  were  rendered  more  seri- 
ous, by  being  charged  by  the  ministers  upon  one  another ; 

the  report  of  a  gross  and  brutal  treatment  of  the ,  by  a 

minister  at  the  same  time  odious  to  the  people  ;  all  conspir- 
ed to  leave  the  publick,  at  the  close  of  the  session  of  1765, 
in  as  critical  and  perilous  a  situation,  as  ever  the  nation  was, 
or  could  be,  in  a  time  when  she  was  not  immediately  threat- 
ened by  her  neighbours. 

It  was  at  this  time,  and  in  these  circumstances,  that  a  new 
administration  was  formed.  Professing  even  industriously, 
in  this  publick  matter,  to  avoid  anecdotes ;  I  say  nothing  of 
those  famous  reconciliations  and  quarrels,  which  weakened 
the  body  that  should  have  been  the  natural  support  of  this 
administration.     I  run  no  risk  in   affirming,  that,  surround- 


312  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

eJ  as  they  were  with  difficulties  of  every  species,  nothing 
but  the  strongest  and  most  uncorrupt  sense  of  their  duty 
to  the  publick  could  have  prevailed  upon  some  of  the  per- 
sons who  composed  it  to  undertake  the  king's  business  at 
such  a  time.  Their  preceding  character,  their  measures 
while  in  power,  and  the  subsequent  conduct  of  many  of 
them,  I  think,  leave  no  room  to  charge  this  assertion  to  flat- 
tery. Having  undertaken  the  commonwealth,  what  remain- 
ed for  them  to  do  ?  to  piece  their  conduct  upon  the  broken 
chain  of  former  measures  ?  If  they  had  been  so  inclined, 
the  ruinous  nature  of  those  measures,  which  began  instantly 
to  appear,  would  not  have  permitted  it.  Scarcely  had  they 
entered  into  office,  when  letters  arrived  from  all  parts  of 
America,  making  loud  complaints,  backed  by  strong  reasons, 
against  several  of  the  principal  regulations  of  the  late  minis- 
try, as  threatening  destruction  to  many  valuable  branches  of 
commerce.  These  were  attended  with  representations  from 
many  merchants  and  capital  manufacturers  at  home,  who  had 
all  their  interests  involved  in  the  support  of  lawful  trade, 
and  in  the  suppression  of  every  sort  of  contraband.  Whilst 
these  things  were  under  consideration,  that  conflagration 
blazed  out  at  once  in  North  America,  an  universal  disobedi- 
ence, and  open  resistance  to  the  stamp  act ;  and,  in  conse- 
quence, an  universal  stop  to  the  course  of  justice,  and  to 
trade  and  navigation,  throughout  that  great  important  coun- 
try ;  an  interval  during  which  the  trading  interest  of  Eng- 
land lay  under  the  most  dreadful  anxiety  which  it  ever  felt- 
The  repeal  of  that  act  was  proposed.  It  was  much  too 
serious  a  measure,  and  attended  with  too  many  difficulties 
upon  every  side,  for  the  then  ministry  to  have  undertaken 
it,  as  some  paltry  writers  have  asserted,  from  envy  and  dis- 
like to  their  predecessors  in  office.  As  little  could  it  be  ow- 
ing to  personal  cowardice,  and  dread  of  consequences  to 
themselves.  Ministers,  timorous  from  their  attachment  to 
place  and  power,  will  fear  more  from  the  consequences  of 
one  court  intrigue,  than  from  a  thousand  difficulties  to  the 
commerce  and  credit  of  their  country  by  disturbances  at 
three  thousand  miles  distance.  From  which  of  these  the 
ministers  had  most  to  apprehend  at  that  time,  is  known,  I 


I 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  310 

presume,  universally.  Nor  did  they  take  that  resolution 
from  a  want  of  the  fullest  sense  of  the  inconveniences  which 
must  necessarily  attend  a  measure  of  concession  from  the  sov- 
ereign to  the  subject.  That  it  must  increase  the  insolence 
of  the  mutinous  spirits  in  America,  was  but  too  obvious. 
No  great  measure  indeed,  at  a  very  difficult  crisis,  can  be 
pursued,  which  is  not  attended  with  some  mischief;  none 
but  conceited  pretenders  in  publick  business  will  hold  any 
other  language  :  and  none  but  weak  and  unexperienced  men 
will  believe  them,  if  they  should.  If  we  were  found  in  such 
a  crisis,  let  those  whose  bold  designs,  and  whose  defective  ar- 
rangements, brought  us  into  it,  answer  for  the  consequences. 
The  business  of  the  then  ministry  evidently  was,  to  take  such 
steps,  not  as  the  wishes  of  our  author,  or  as  their  own  wishes 
dictated,  but  as  the  bad  situation  which  their  predecessors 
had  left  them  absolutely  required. 

The  disobedience  to  this  act  was  universal  throughout 
America ;  nothing,  it  was  evident,  but  the  sending  a  very 
strong  military,  backed  by  a  very  strong  naval  force,  would 
reduce  the  seditious  to  obedience.  To  send  it  to  one  town, 
would  not  be  sufficient ;  every  province  of  America  must 
be  traversed,  and  must  be  subdued.  I  do  not  entertain  the 
least  doubt  but  this  could  be  done.  We  might,  I  think, 
without  much  difficulty  have  destroyed  our  colonies.  This 
destruction  might  be  effected,  probably  in  a  year,  or  in  two 
at  the  utmost.  If  the  question  was  upon  a  foreign  nation, 
where  every  successful  stroke  adds  to  your  own  power,  and 
takes  from  that  of  a  rival,  a  just  war  with  such  a  certain  su- 
periority would  be  undoubtedly  an  advlseable  measure.  But 
four  million  of  debt  due  to  our  merchants,  the  total  cessation 
of  a  trade  annually  Avorthyowr  million  more,  a  large  foreign 
traffick,  much  home  manufacture,  a  very  capital  immediate 
revenue  arising  from  colony  imports,  indeed  the  produce  of 
every  one  of  our  revenues  greatly  depending  on  this  trade, 
all  these  were  very  weighty  accumulated  considerations,  at 
least  well  to  be  weighed,  before  that  sword  was  drawn, 
Y»'hich  even  by  its  victories  must  produce  all   the  evil  effects 

Vol.  I.  S  s 


314.  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

of  the  greatest  national  defeat.  How  publick  credit  must 
have  suffered,  I  need  not  say.  If  the  condition  of  the  na- 
tion, at  the  close  of  our  foreign  war,  was  what  this  autlior 
represents  it,  such  a  civil  war  would  have  been  a  bad  couch  on 
which  to  repose  our  wearied  virtue.  Far  from  being  able  to 
have  entered  into  new  plans  of  economy,  we  must  have 
launched  into  a  new  sea,  I  fear  a  boundless  sea,  of  expense. 
Such  an  addition  of  debt,  with  such  a  diminution  of  revenue 
and  trade,  would  have  left  us  in  no  want  of  a  State  of  the  Na- 
tion to  aggravate  the  picture  of  our  distresses. 

Our  trade  felt  this  to  its  vitals, ;  and  our  then  ministers 
were  not  ashamed  to  say,  that  they  sympathized  with  the 
feelings  of  our  merchants.  The  universal  alarm  of  the  whole 
trading  body  of  England  will  never  be  laughed  at  by  them 
as  an  ill-grounded  or  a  pretended  panick.  The  universal  de- 
sire of  that  body  will  always  have  great  weight  with  them 
in  every  consideration  connected  with  commerce  ;  neither 
ought  the  opinion  of  that  body  to  be  slighted  (notwithstand- 
ing the  contemptuous  and  indecent  language  of  this  author 
and  his  associates)  in  any  consideration  whatsoever  of  reve- 
nue. Nothing  amongst  us  is  more  quickly  or  deeply  affected 
by  taxes  of  any  kind  than  trade  ;  and  if  an  American  tax 
was  a  real  relief  to  England,  no  part  of  the  community  would 
be  sooner,  or  more  materially  relieved  by  it  than  our  mer- 
chants. But  they  well  know  that  the  trade  of  England  must 
be  more  burthened  by  one  penny  raised  in  America,  than  by 
three  in  England  j  and  if  that  penny  be  raised  with  the  un- 
easiness, the  discontent,  and  the  confusion  of  America,  more 
than  by  ten. 

If  the  opinion  and  wish  of  the  landed  interest  is  a  mo- 
tive, and  it  is  a  fair  and  just  one,  for  taking  away  a  real  and 
large  revenue,  the  desire  of  the  trading  interest  of  England, 
ought  to  be  a  just  ground  for  taking  away  a  tax,  of  little 
better  than  speculation,  which  was  to  be  collected  by  a  war, 
which  was  to  be  kept  up  with  the  perpetual  discontent  of 
those  who  were  to  be  affected  by  it,  and  the  value  of  whose 
produce,  even  after  the  ordinary  charges  of  collection,  was 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  315 

very  uncertain  ;*  after  the  extraordinary ^  the    dearest  pur- 
chased revenue  that  ever  was  made  by  any  nation. 

These  were  some  of  the  motives  drawn  from  principles  of 
convenience  for  that  repeal.  When  the  object  came  to  be 
more  narrowly  inspected,  every  motive  concurred.  These 
colonies  were  evidently  founded  in  subservience  to  the  com- 
merce of  Great  Britain.  From  this  principle,  the  whole  sys- 
tem of  our  laws  concerning  them  became  a  system  of  re- 
striction. A  double  monopoly  was  established  on  the  part 
of  the  parent  country  ;  1.  A  monopoly  of  their  whole  im- 
port, which  is  to  be  altogether  from  Great  Britain  ;  2.  A 
monopoly  of  all  their  export,  which  is  to  be  no  where  but  to 
Great  Britain,  as  far  as  it  can  serve  any  purpose  here.  On 
the  same  idea  it  was  contrived  that  they  should  send  all 
their  products  to  us  raw,  and  in  their  first  state ;  and  that 
they  should  take  every  thing  from  us  in  the  last  stage  of 
manufacture. 

Were  ever  a  people  under  such  circumstances,  that  is,  a 
people  who  were  to  export  raw,  and  to  receive  manufactur- 
ed, and  this,  not  a  few  luxurious  articles,  but  all  articles, 
even  to  those  of  the  grossest,  most  vulgar,  and  necessary  con- 
sumption, a  people  who  were  in  the  hands  of  a  general  mo- 
nopolist, were  ever  such  a  people  suspected  of  a  possibility  of 
becoming  a  just  object  of  revenue  ?  All  the  ends  of  their 
foundation  must  be  supposed  utterly  contradicted  before  they 
could  become  such  an  object.  Every  trade-law  we  have  made 
must  have  been  eluded,  and  become  useless,  before  they  could 
be  in  such  a  condition. 

The  partisans  of  the  new  system,  who,  on  most  occasions 
take  credit  for  full  as  much  knowledge  as  they  possess,  think 
proper  on  this  occasion  to  counterfeit  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree of  ignorance,  and  in  consequence  of  it  to  assertf ,  "  that 

*  It  is  observable,  that  the  partisans  of  American  taxation,  when  they 
have  a  mind  to  represent  this  tax  as  wonderfully  beneficial  to  England,  state 
it  as  worth  ,(^.100,000  a  year  ;  when  they  are  to  represent  it  as  very  light  on 
the  Americans,  it  dwindles  to  ;^.  60,000.  Indeed  it  is  very  difficult  to  com- 
pute what  its  produce  might  have  been. 

f  Considerations,  p.  T4. 


315  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

the  balance  (between  the  colonies  and  Great  Britain)  is  un- 
known, and  that  no  important  conclusion  can  be  drawn  from 
premises  so  very  uncertain."  Now  to  what  can  this  ignor- 
ance be  owing  ?  were  the  navigation  laws  made,  that  this  bal- 
ance should  be  unknown  ?  is  it  from  the  course  of  exchange 
that  it  is  unknown,  which  all  the  world  knows  to  be  greatly 
and  perpetually  against  the  colonies  ?  is  it  from  the  doubt- 
ful nature  of  the  trade  we  carry  on  with  the  colonies  ?  are 
not  these  schemists  well  apprised,  that  the  colonists,  particu- 
larly those  of  the  northern  provinces,  import  more  from 
Great  Britain,  ten  times  more,  than  they  send  in  return  to 
us  ?  that  a  great  part  of  their  foreign  balance  is,  and  must  be 
remitted  to  London  ?  I  shall  be  ready  to  admit  that  the  col- 
onies ought  to  be  taxed  to  the  revenues  of  this  country, 
when  I  know  that  they  are  out  of  debt  to  its  commerce. 
This  author  will  furnish  some  ground  to  his  theories,  and 
communicate  a  discovery  to  the  publick,  if  he  can  shew  this 
by  any  medium.  But  he  tells  us,  that  *"  their  seas  are  cov- 
ered with  ships,  and  their  rivers  floating  with  commerce." 
This  is  true.  But  it  is  with  our  ships  that  these  seas  are 
covered  ;  and  their  rivers  float  with  British  commerce.  The 
American  merchants  are  our  factors  j  all  in  reality,  most 
even  in  name.  The  Americans  trade,  navigate,  cultivate, 
with  Eriglish  capitals  ;  to  their  own  advantage,  to  be  sure  ; 
for  without  these  capitals  their  ploughs  would  be  stopped, 
and  their  ships  wind-bound.  But  he  who  furnishes  the  cap- 
ital must,  on  the  whole,  be  the  person  principally  benefitted  j 
the  person  v/ho  works  upon  it  profits  on  his  part  too  ;  but 
he  profits  in  a  subordinate  way,  as  our  colonies  do  j  that  is, 
as  the  servant  of  a  wise  and  idulgent  master,  and  no  other- 
wise. We  have  all,  except  the  peculium  \  without  which, 
even  slaves  will  not  labour. 

If  the  author's  principles,  which  are  the  common  notions, 
be  right,  that  the  price  of  our  manufactures  is  so  greatly  en- 
hanced by  our  taxes ;  then  the  Americans  already  pay  in 
that  way  a  share  of  our  impositions.  He  is  not  ashamed  to 
assert,  thatf  "  France  and  China  may  be  said,  on  the  same 

*  Considerations,  p.  79.  f  Considerations,  p.  74. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  3 17 

principle,  to  bear  a  part  of  our  charges,  for  they  consume  our 
commodities."  Was  ever  such  a  method  of  reasoning  heard 
of  ?  Do  not  the  laws  absolutely  confine  the  colonies  to  buy 
from  us,  whether  foreign  nations  sell  cheaper  or  not  ?  On 
what  other  idea  are  all  our  prohibitions,  regulations,  guards, 
penalties,  and  forfeitures,  framed  ?  To  secure  to  us,  not  a 
commercial  preference,  which  stands  in  need  of  no  penalties 
to  inforce  it  j  it  finds  its  own  way ;  but  to  secure  to  us  a 
trade,  which  is  a  creature  of  law  and  institution.  What  has 
this  to  do  with  the  principles  of  a  foreign  trade,  which  is  un- 
der no  monopoly,  and  in  which  we  cannot  raise  the  price  of 
our  goods,  without  hazarding  the  demand  for  them  ?  None 
but  the  authors  of  such  measures  could  ever  think  of  making 
use  of  such  arguments. 

Whoever  goes  about  to  reason  on  any  part  of  the  policy 
,of  this  country  with  regard  to  America,  upon  the  mere  ab- 
stract principles  of  government,  or  even  upon  those  of  our 
own  ancient  constitution,  will  be  often  misled.  Those  who 
resort  for  arguments  to  the  most  respectable  authorities,,  an- 
cient or  modern,  or  rest  upon  the  clearest  maxims,  drawn 
from  the  experience  of  other  states  and  empires,  will  be  lia- 
ble to  the  greatest  errours  imaginable.  The  object  is  wholly 
new  in  the  world.  It  is  singular  :  it  is  grown  up  to  this 
magnitude  and  importance  within  the  memory  of  man ; 
nothing  in  history  is  parallel  to  it.  All  the  reasonings  about 
it,  that  are  likely  to  be  at  all  solid,  must  be  drawn  from  its 
actual  circumstances.  In  this  new  system  a  principle  of  com- 
merce, of  artificial  commerce,  must  predominate.  This 
commerce  must  be  secured  by  a  multitude  of  restraints  ve- 
ry alien  from  the  spirit  of  liberty  j  and  a  powerful  authority 
must  reside  in  the  principal  state,  in  order  to  enforce  them. 
But  the  people  v>rho  are  to  be  the  subjects  of  these  restraints 
are  descendants  of  Englishmen  j  and  of  an  high  and  free 
spirit.  To  hold  over  them  a  government  made  up  of  noth- 
ing but  restraints  and  penalties,  and  taxes  in  the  granting  of 
which  they  can  have  no  share,  will  neither  be  wise  nor  long 
practicable.  People  must  be  governed  in  a  manner  agree- 
able to  their  temper  and  disposition  ;  and  men  of  free  char- 
acter and  spirit  must  be  ruled  v/ith,  at  least,  some  condescen- 


318  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A, LATE 

slon  to  this  spirit  and  this  character.  The  British  colonist 
must  see  something  which  will  distinguish  him  from  the  colo- 
nists of  other  nations. 

Those  reasonings,  which  infer  from  the  many  restraints 
under  which  we  have  already  laid  America,  to  our  right  to 
lay  it  under  still  more,  and  indeed  under  all  manner  of  re- 
straints, are  conclusive  •,  conclusive  as  to  right ;  but  the  very 
reverse  as  to  policy  and  practice.  We  ought  rather  to  infer 
from  our  having  laid  the  colonies  under  many  restraints,  that 
it  is  reasonable  to  compensate  them  by  every  indulgence  that 
can  by  any  means  be  reconciled  to  our  interest.  We  have  a 
great  empire  to  rule,  composed  of  a  vast  mass  of  heterogene- 
ous governments,  all  more  or  less  free  and  popular  in  their 
forms,  all  to  be  kept  in  peace,  and  kept  out  of  conspiracy, 
with  one  another,  all  to  be  held  in  subordination  to  this 
country ;  while  the  spirit  of  an  extensive  and  intricate  and 
trading  interest  pervades  the  whole,  always  qualifying,  and 
often  controlling,  every  general  idea  of  constitution  and  gov- 
ernment. It  is  a  great  and  difficult  object ;  and  I  wish  we 
may  possess  wisdom  and  temper  enough  to  manage  it  as  we 
ought.  Its  importance  is  infinite.  I  believe  the  reader  will 
be  struck,  as  I  have  been,  with  one  singular  fact.  In  the 
year  iTO-t,  but  sixty-five  years  ago,  the  whole  trade  with 
our  plantations  was  but  a  few  thousand  pounds  more  in  the 
export  article,  and  a  third  less  in  the  import,  than  that  which 
we  now  carry  on  with  the  single  island  of  Jamaica : 

Exports.  Imports. 

Total  English  plantations  in  £.  £, 

1704,  -         -         -  483,265  -       814,491 

Jamaica,   1767,  -         -       467,681  -  1,243,742 

From  the  same  information  I  find  that  our  dealing  with 
most  of  the  European  nations  is  but  little  increased ;  these 
nations  have  been  pretty  much  at  a  stand  since  that  time  j 
and  we  have  rivals  in  their  trade.  This  colony  intercourse  is 
a  new  world  of  commerce  in  a  manner  created ;  it  stands 
upon  principles  of  its  own;  principles  hardly  worth  endan- 
gering for  any  little  consideration  of  extorted  revenue. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  519 

The  reader  sees,  that  I  do  not  enter  so  fully  into  this  mat- 
ter as  obviously  I  might.  I  have  already  been  led  into 
greater  lengths  then  I  intended.  It  is  enough  to  say,  that 
before  the  ministers  of  1765  had  determined  to  propose  the 
repeal  of  the  stamp  act  ih  parhament,  they  had  the  whole 
of  the  American  constitution  and  commerce  very  fully  before 
them.  They  considered  maturely ;  they  decided  with  wis- 
dom: let  me  add,  with  firmness.  For  they  resolved,  as  a 
preliminary  to  that  repeal,  to  assert  in  the  fullest  and  least 
equivocal  terms  the  unlimited  legislative  right  of  this  coun- 
try over  its  colonies  ;  and,  having  done  this,  to  propose  the 
repeal,  on  principles,  not  of  constitutional  right,  but  on 
those  of  expediency,  of  equity,  of  lenity,  and  of  the  true 
interests  present  and  future  of  that  great  object  for  which 
alone  the  colonies  were  founded,  navigation  and  commerce. 
This  plan,  I  say,  required  an  uncommon  degree  of  firmness, 
when  we  consider  that  some  of  those  persons  who  might  be 
of  the  greatest  use  in  promoting  the  repeal,  violently  with- 
stood the  declaratory  act  j  and  they  who  agreed  with  admin- 
istration in  the  principles  of  that  law,  equally  made,  as  well 
the  reasons  on  which  the  declaratory  act  itself  stood,  as  those 
on  which  it  was  opposed,  grounds  for  an  opposition  to  the 
repeal. 

If  the  then  ministry  resolved  first  to  declare  the  right,  it 
was  not  from  any  opinion  they  entertained  of  its  future  use 
in  regular  taxation.  Their  opinions  were  full  and  declared 
against  the  ordinary  use  of  such  a  power.  But  it  was  plain, 
that  the  general  reasonings  which  were  employed  against 
that  power  went  directly  to  our  w^hole  legislative  right  j  and 
one  part  of  it  could  not  be  yielded  to  such  arguments,  with- 
out a  virtual  surrender  of  all  the  rest.  Besides,  if  that  ve- 
ry specifick  power  of  levying  money  in  the  colonies  were  not 
retained  as  a  sacred  trust  in  the  hands  of  Great  Britain  (to  be 
used, not  in  the  first  instance  for  supply, but  in  the  last  exigence 
for  control),  it  is  obvious,  that  the  presiding  authority  of  Great 
Britain,  as  the  head,  the  arbiter,  and  director  of  the  whole  em- 
pire, would  vanish  into  an  empty  name,  without  operation  or 
energy.  With  the  habitual  exercise  of  such  a  power  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  supply,  no  trace  of  freedom  could  remain 


320  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

to  America.*  If  Great  Britain  were  stripped  of  this  right, 
every  principle  of  unity  and  subordination  in  the  empire  was 
gone  for  ever.  Whether  all  this  can  be  reconciled  in  legal 
speculation,  is  a  matter  of  no  consecpence.  It  is  reconciled 
in  policy ;  and  politicks  ought  to  be  adjusted,  not  to  human 
reasonings,  but  to  human  nature  ;  of  which  the  reason  is  but 
a  part,  and  by  no  means  the  greatest  part. 

Founding  the  repeal  on  this  basis,  it  was  judged  proper  to 
lay  before  parliament  the  whole  detail  of  the  American  af- 
fairs, as  fully  as  it  had  been  laid  before  the  ministry  them- 
selves. Ignorance  of  those  affairs  had  misled  parliament. 
Knowledge  alone  could  bring  it  into  the  right  road.  Every 
paper  of  office  was  laid  upon  the  table  of  the  two  houses  ; 
every  denomination  of  men,  either  of  America,  or  connect- 
ed with  it  by  office,  by  residence,  by  commerce,  by  interest, 
even  by  injury  ;  men  of  civil  and  military  capacity,  officers 
of  the  revenue,  merchants,  manufacturers  of  every  species, 
and  from  every  town  In  England,  attended  at  the  bar.  Such 
evidence  never  was  laid  before  parliament.  If  an  emu- 
lation arose  among  the  ministers  and  members  of  parliament, 
as  the  author  rightly  observesf,  for  the  repeal  of  this  act,  as 
well  as  for  the  other  regulations.  It  was  not  on  the  confident 
assertions,  the  airy  speculations,  or  the  vain  promises,  of  min- 
isters, that  it  arose.  It  was  the  sense  of  parliament  on  the 
evidence  before  them.  No  one  so  much  as  suspects  that  min- 
isterial allurements  or  terrours  had  any  share  in  it. 

Our  author  Is  very  much  displeased,  that  so  much  credit 
was  given  to  the  testimony  of  merchants.  He  has  an  habit  of 
railing  at  them  ;  and  he  may,  If  he  pleases,  indulge  himself  in 

*  I  do  not  here  enter  into  the  unsatisfactory  disquisition  concerning 
representation  real  or  presumed.  I  only  say,  that  a  great  people,  who  have 
their  property,  without  any  reserve,  in  all  cases,  disposed  of  by  another  peo- 
ple at  an  immense  distance  from  them,  will  not  think  themselves  in  the  en- 
joyment of  freedom.  It  will  be  hard  to  shew  to  those  who  are  in  such  a 
state,  which  of  the  usual  parts  of  the  definition  or  description  of  a  free 
people  are  applicable  to  them;  and  it  is  neither  pleasant  nor  wise  to  at- 
tempt to  prove  that  they  have  no_  right  to  be  comprehended  in  such  a  de- 
scription. 

t  P.  21 . 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  g21 

it.  It  will  not  do  great  mischief  to  that  respectable  set  of 
men.  The  substance  of  their  testimony  was,  that  their  debts 
in  America  were  very  great  :  that  the  Americans  declined  to 
pay  them,  or  to  renew  their  orders,  whilst  this  act  continued  : 
that,  under  these  circumstances,  they  despaired  of  the  re- 
covery of  their  debts,  or  the  renewal  of  their  trade  in  that 
country  :  that  they  apprehended  a  general  failure  of  mercan- 
tile credit.  The  manufacturers  deposed  to  the  same  general 
purpose,  with  this  addition,  that  many  of  them  had  discharg- 
ed several  of  their  artificers ;  and,  if  the  law  and  the  resist- 
ance to  it  should  continue,  must  dismiss  them  all. 

This  testimony  is  treated  with  great  contempt  by  our  author. 
It  must  be,  I  suppose,  because  it  was  contradicted  by  the  plain 
nature  of  things.  Suppose  then  that  the  merchants  had,  to 
gratify  this  author,  given  a  contrary  evidence  -,  and  had  de- 
posed, that  while  America  remained  in  a  state  of  resistance, 
whilst  four  million  of  debt  remained  unpaid,  whilst  the  course 
of  justice  was  suspended  for  want  of  stamped  paper,  so  that  no 
debt  could  be  recovered,  whilst  there  was  a  total  stop  to  trade, 
because  every  ship  was  subject  to  seizure  for  want  of  stamped 
clearances,  and  while  the  colonies  were  to  be  declared  in  re- 
bellion, and  subdued  by  armed  force,  that  in  these  circumstan- 
ces they  would  still  continue  to  trade  cheerfully  and  fearlessly 
as  before  ;  would  not  such  witnesses  provoke  universal  in- 
dignation for  their  folly  or  their  wickedness,  and  be  deserv- 
edly hooted  from  the  bar  j*  would  any  hum^n  faith  have  given 

*  Here  the  author  has  a  note  altogether  ha  his  usual  strain  of  reasoning  - 
he  finds  out  that  somebody,  in  the  course  of  this  muhifarious  evidence,  liad 
said,  "  that  "a  very  considerable  part  of  the  orders  of  1 765  transmitted  from 
America  had  been  afterwards  suspended,  but  that  in  case  the  stamp  act  was 
repealed,  those  orders  were  to  be  executed  in  the  present  year  1766  ;"  and 
that,  on  the  repeal  of  the  stamp  act,  "  the  exports  to  the  colonies  would  be 
at  least  double  the  value  of  the  exports  of  the  past  year."  He  then  triumphs 
exceedingly  on  their  having  fallen  short  of  it  on  the  state  of  the  custom- 
house entries.  I  do  not  well  know  what  conclusion  he  draws  applicable 
to  his  purpose,  from  these  facts.  He  does  nqt  deny  that  all  the  orders  v/hich 
came  from  America  subsequent  to  the  disturbances  of  the  stamp  act  were  on 
the  condition  of  that  act  being  repealed  ;  and,  he  does  not  assert  that,  notwith- 
standing that  act  should  be  enforced  by  a  strong  hand,  still  the  orders  would 
be  executed.  Neither  does  he  quite  venture  to  say  that  this  decline  of  the 
trade  in  1766  was  owing  to  the  repeal.  What  does  he  therefore  infer  from 
it,  favourable  to  the  euforeement  of  that  law  ?  It  only  comes  to  this,  and  no 

Vol.  I.  T  T 


322  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

credit  to  such  assertions  ?  The  testimony  of  the  merchants 
was  necessary  for  the  detail,  and  to  bring  the  matter  home  to 
the  feeling  of  the  house  ;  as  to  the  general  reasons,  they  spoke 
abundantly  for  themselves. 

Upon   these  principles  was  the  act  repealed,  and  it  pro- 
duced all  the  good  effect  which  was  expected  from  it  :    quiet 

more  ;  those  merchants,  who  thought  our  trade  would  be  doubled  in  the 
subsequent  year,  were  mistaken  in  their  speculations.  So  that  the  stamp  act 
was  not  to  be  repealed  unless  this  speculation  of  theirs  was  a  probable  event. 
But  it  was  not  repealed  in  order  to  double  our  trade  in  that  year,  as  every 
body  knows  (whatever  some  merchants  might  have  said),  but  lest  in  that  year 
we  should  have  no  trade  at  all.  The  fact  is,  that,  during  the  greatest  part  of 
the  year  1765,  that  is,  until  about  the  month  of  October,  when  the  accounts 
of  the  disturbances  came  thick  upon  us,  the  American  trade  went  on  as  usual. 
Before  this  time,  the  stamp  act  could  not  affect  it.  Afterwards,  the  merchants 
fell  into  a  great  consternation  ;  a  general  stagnation  in  trade  ensued.  But  as 
soon  as  it  was  known  that  the  ministry  favoured  the  repeal  of  tiie  stamp  act, 
several  of  the  bolder  merchants  ventured  to  execute  their  orders  ;  others 
more  timid  hung  back  in  tiiis  manner  the  trade  continued  in  a  state  of  dread- 
ful fluctuation  between  the  fears  of  those  who  had  ventured,  for  the  event  of 
their  boldness,  and  the  anxiety  of  those  whose  trade  was  suspended,  uniil  the 
royal  assent  was  finally  given  to  the  bill  of  repeal.  That  the  trade  of  1 766 
was  not  equal  to  that  of  1 765,  could  not  be  owing  to  the  repeal ;  it  arose  from 
quite  different  causes,  of  which  the  author  seems  not  to  be  aware  :  1st,  Our 
conquests  during  the  war  had  laid  open  the  trade  of  the  French  and  Spanish 
West  Indies  to  our  colonies  much  more  largely  than  they  had  ever  eujoved 
it ;  this  continued  for  some  time  after  the  peace  ;  but  at  length  it  was  extreme- 
ly contracted,  and  in  some  places  reduced  to  nothing.  Such  in  particular  was 
the  state  of  Jamaica.  On  the  taking  the  Havannah  all  the  stores  of  that  island 
were  emptied  into  that  place,  which  produced  unusual  orders  for  goods,  for  sup- 
plying their  own  consumption,  as  well  as  for  further  speculations  of  trade. 
These  ceasing,  the  trade  stood  on  its  own  bottom.  This  is  one  cause  of  the 
diminished  export  to  Jamaica  ;  and  not  the  childish  idea  of  the  author,  of  an 
impossible  contraband  from  the  opening  of  the  ports.  2d,  The  war  had 
brought  a  great  influx  of  cash  ints  America,  for  the  pay  and  provision  of  the 
troops ;  and  this  an  unatural  increase  of  trade  ;  which,  as  its  cause  failed,  must 
in  some  degree  return  to  its  ancient  and  natural  bounds.  3d,  When  the  mer- 
chants met  from  all  parts,  and  compared  their  accounts,  they  were  alarmed  at 
the  immensity  of  the  debt  due  to  them  from  America.  They  found  that  the 
Americans  had  over-traded  their  abilities.  And,  as  thev  found  too  that 
several  of  them  were  capable  of  making  the  state  of  political  events  an  excuse 
for  their  failure  in  commercial  punctuality,  many  of  our  merchants  in  some 
degree  contracted  their  trade  from  that  moment.  However,  it  is  idle,  in  such 
an  immense  mass  of  trade,  so  liable  to  fluctuation,  to  infer  any  thing  from 
such  a  deficiency  as  one  or  even  two  hundred  thousand  pounds.  In  1767, 
when  the  disturbances  subsided,  this  deficiency  was  made  up  again. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  323 

was  restored  ;  trade  generally  returned  to  its  ancient  chan- 
nels ;  time  and  means  were  furnished  for  the  better  strength- 
ening of  government  there,  as  well  as  for  recovering,  by  ju- 
dicious measures,  the  affections  of  the  people,  had  that  min- 
istry coiitinued,  or  had  a  ministry  succeeded  with  dispositions 
to  improve  that  opportunity. 

Such  an  administration  did  not  succeed.  Instead  of  prof- 
iting of  that  season  of  tranquillity,  in  the  very  next  year  they 
chose  to  return  to  measures  of  the  very  same  nature  with 
those  which  had  been  so  solemnly  condemned  ;  chough  upon 
a  smaller  scale.  The  effects  have  been  correspondent.  Amer- 
ica is  again  in  disorder  j  not  indeed  in  the  same  degree  as 
formerly,  nor  any  thing  like  it.  Such  good  effects  have  at- 
tended the  repeal  of  the  stamp  act,  that  the  colonies  have  ac- 
tually paid  the  taxes  •,  and  they  have  sought  their  redress 
(upon  however  improper  principles)  not  in  their  own  violence, 
as  formerly  •,*  but  in  the  experienced  benignity  of  parliainent. 
They  are  not  easy  indeed,  nor  ever  will  be  so,  under  this 
author's  schemes  of  taxation  ;  but  we  see  no  longer  the  same 
general  fury  and  confusion,  which  attended  their  resistance 
to  the  stamp  act.  The  author  may  rail  at  the  repeal,  and 
those  who  proposed  it,  as  he  pleases.  Those  honest  men 
suffer  all  his  obloquy  with  pleasure,  in  the  midst  of  the  quiet 
which  they  have  been  the  means  of  giving  to  their  country  j 
and  would  t;hink  his  praises  for  their  perseverance  in  a  perni- 
cious scheme,  a  very  bad  compensation  for  the  disturbance  of 
our  peace,  and  the  ruin  of  our  commerce.  Whether  the  re- 
turn to  the  system  of  1 764,  for  raising  a  revenue  in  America, 
the  discontents  which  have  ensued  in  consequence  of  it,  the 
general  suspension  of  the  assemblies  in  consequence  of  these 
discontents,  the  use  of  the  military  power,  and  the  new  and 
dangerous  commissions  which  now  hang  over  them,  will  pro- 
duce equally  good  effects,  is  greatly  to  be  doubted-  Never,  I 
fear,  will  this  nation  and  the  colonies  fall  back  upon  their  true 
center  of  gravity,  and  natural  point  of  repose,  until  the  ideas 
of  1766  are  resumed,  and  steadily  pursued. 


*  The  disturbances  have  been  in  Eoston  on!y  ;    ai  d  were  not   in  conse- 
quence of  the  late  duties. 


324-  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

As  to  the  regulations,  a  great  subject  of  the  author's  accusa- 
tion, they  are  of  two  sorts  j  one  of  a  mixed  nature,  of  revenue 
and  trade  j  the  other  simply  relative  to  trade.  With  regard 
to  the  former  I  shall  observe,  that,  in  all  deliberations  concern- 
ing America,  the  ideas  of  that  administration  were  principally 
these  ;  to  take  trade  as  the  primary  end,  and  revenue  but  as 
a  very  subordinate  consideration.  Where  trade  was  likely  to 
suffer,  they  did  not  hesitate  for  an  instant  to  prefer  it  to  taxes* 
whose  produce  at  best  was  contemptible,  in  comparison  of  the 
object  which  they  might  endanger.  The  other  of  their  prin- 
ciples was,  to  suit  the  revenue  to  the  object.  Where  the  diffi- 
culty of  collection,  from  the  nature  of  the  country,  and  of  the 
revenue  establishment,  is  so  very  notorious,  it  was  their  poli- 
cy to  hold  out  as  few  temptations  to  smuggling  as  possible,  by 
keeping  the  duties  as  nearly  as  they  could  on  a  balance  with 
the  risk.  On  these  principles  they  made  many  alterations 
in  the  port  duties  of  1 764,both  in  the  mode  and  in  the  quantity. 
The  author  has  not  attempted  to  prove  them  erroneous.  He 
complains  enough  to  shew  that  he  is  in  an  ill  humour,  not  that 
his  adversaries  have   done  amiss. 

As  to  the  regulations  which  were  merely  relative  to  com- 
merce, many  were  then  made  ;  and  they  were  all  made  upon 
this  pririciple,  that  many  of  the  colonies,  and  those  some  of 
the  most  abounding  in  people,  were  so  situated  as  to  have 
very  few  means  of  traffick  with  this  country.  It  became 
therefore  our  interest  to  let  them  into  as  much  foreign  trade 
as  could  be  given  them  without  interfering  with  our  own  ; 
and  to  secure  by  every  method  the  returns  to  the  mother 
coiuitry.  Without  some  such  scheme  of  enlargement,  it  was 
obvious  that  any  benefit  we  could  expect  from  these  colonies 
must  be  extremely  limited.  Accordingly  many  facilities  were 
given  to  their  trade  with  the  foreign  plantations,  and  with 
the  southern  parts  of  Europe.  As  to  the  confining  the  re- 
turns to  this  country,  administration  saw  the  mischief  and 
foiiy  of  a  plan  of  indiscriminate  restraint.  They  applied  their 
remedy  to  that  part  where  the  disease  existed,  and  to  that 
only  •,  on  this  idea  they  established  regulations,  far  more  like- 
ly to  check  the  dangerous  clandestine  trade  with  Hamburgh 
and  Holland,  than  this  author's  friends,  or  any  of  their  pre- 
decessors had  ever  done. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  325 

.  The  friends  of  the  author  have  a  method  surely  a  little 
whimsical  in  all  this  sort  of  discussions.  They  have  made  an 
innumerable  multitude  of  commercial  regulations,  at  which 
the  trade  of  England  exclaimed  with  one  voice,  and  many  of 
which  have  been  altered  on  the  unanimous  opinion  of  that 
trade.  Still  they  go  on,  just  as  before,  in  a  sort  of  droning 
panegyrick  on  themselves,  talking  of  these  regulations  as  prod- 
igies of  wisdom  ;  and,  instead  of  appealing  to  those  who  are 
most  affected  and  the  best  judges,  they  turn  round  in  a  perpet- 
ual, circle  of  their  own  reasonings  and  pretences  j  they  hand 
you  over  from  one  of  their  own  pamphlets  to  another  : 
"  See,"  say  they,  "  this  demonstrated  in  the  Regulations  of 
the  Colonies."  "  See  this  satisfactorily  proved  in  The 
Considerations."  By  and  by  we  shall  have  another  j  "  See 
for  this  The  State  of  the  Nation."  1  wish  to  take  another 
method  in  vindicating  the  opposite  system.  I  refer  to  the 
petitions  of  merchants  for  these  regulations ;  to  their  thanks 
when  they  were  obtained  ;  and  to  the  strong  and  grateful 
sense  they  have  ever  since  expressed  of  the  benefits  received 
under  that  administration. 

All  administrations  have  in   their  commercial  regulations 

been  generally  aided  by  the  opinion  of  some  merchants  j  too 

frequently  by  that  of  a  few,  and  those  a  sort  of  favourites :  they 

have  been  directed  by  the  opinion  of  one  or  two  merchants, 

who  were  to  merit  in  flatteries,  and  to  be  paid  in  contracts  ; 

who  frequently  advised,  not  for  the  general  good  of  trade,  but 

for  their  private  advantage.     During  the  administration  of 

which  this  author  complains,  the  meetings  of  merchants  upon 

the  business  of  trade  were  numerous  and  publick  ;  sometimes 

at   the  house  of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham  ;    sometimes 

at  Mr.  Dowdeswell's  ;  sometimes    at  Sir  George  Saville's, 

an  house  always  open  to  every  deliberation  favourable  to  the 

liberty  or  the  commerce  of  his   country.     Nor  were  these 

meetings  confined  to  the  merchants  of  London.     Merchants 

and  manufacturers  were  invited   from   all  the  considerable 

towns  in  England.     They  conferred  with  the  ministers  and 

active  members  of  parliament.     No  private  wiews,   no  local 

interests  prevailed.     Never  were  points  in  trade  settled  upon 

a  larger  scale  of  information.     They  who    attended  these 


326  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

meetings  well  know,  what  ministers  they  were  who  heard  thd 
most  patiently,  who  comprehended  the  most  clearly,  and 
who  provided  the  most  wisely.  Let  then  this  author  and 
his  friends  still  continue  in  possession  of  the  practice  of  ex- 
alting their  own  abilities,  in  their  pamphlets  and  in  the 
newspapers.  They  never  will  persuade  the  publick,  that 
the  merchants  of  England  were  in  a  general  confederacy  to 
sacrifice  their  own  interests  to  those  of  North  America, 
and  to  destroy  the  vent  of  their  own  goods  in  favour  of  the 
manufactures  of  France  and  Holland. 

Had  the  friends  of  this  author  taken  these  means  of 
information,  his  extreme  terrours  of  contraband  in  the  West 
India  islands  would  have  been  greatly  quieted,  and  his  objec- 
tions to  the  opening  of  the  ports  would  have  ceased.  He 
would  have  learned,  from  the  most  satisfactory  analysis  of  the 
West  India  trade,  that  we  have  the  advantage  in  every 
essential  article  of  it ;  and  that  almost  every  restriction  on 
our  communication  with  our  neigbours  there,  is  a  restriction 
unfavourable  to  ourselves. 

Such  were  the  principles  that  guided,  and  the  authority 
that  sanctioned,  these  regulations.  No  man  ever  said,  that, 
in  the  multiplicity  of  regulations  made  in  the  administra- 
tion of  their  predecessors,  none  were  useful  :  some  certainly 
were  so  ;  and  I  defy  the  author  to  shew  a  commercial  regu- 
lation of  that  period,  which  he  can  prove,  from  any  authority 
except  his  own,  to  have  a  tendency  beneficial  to  commerce, 
that  has  been  repealed.  So  far  were  that  ministry  from 
being  guided  by  a  spirit  of  contradiction  or  of  innovation. 

The  author's  attack  on  that  administration,  for  their  neglect 
of  our  claims  on  foreign  powers,  is  by  much  the  most  aston- 
ishing instance  he  has  given,  or  that,  I  believe,  any  man 
ever  did  give,  of  an  intrepid  effrontery.  It  relates  to  the 
Manilla  ransom  j  to  the  Canada  bills ;  and  to  the  Russian 
treaty.  Could  one  imagine,  that  these  very  things,  which 
he  thus  chooses  to  object  to  others,  have  been  the  principal 
subject  of  charge  against  his  favourite  ministry  ?  Instead  of 
clearing  them  of  these  charges,  he  appears  not  so  much  as  to 
have  heard  of  them  ;  but  throws  them  directly  upon  the 
administration  which  succeeded  to  that  of  his  friends. 


STATE  Of  THE  NATION.  327 

It  is  not  always  very  pleasant  to  be  obliged  to  produce  the 
detail  of  this  kind  of  transactions  to  the  publickwiew.  I  will 
content  myself  therefore  with  givingashort  state  of  facts,which, 
when  the  author  chooses  to  contradict,  he  shall  see  proved, 
more,  perhaps,  to  his  conviction,  than  to  his  liking.  The  first 
fact  then  is,  that  the  demand  for  the  Manilla  ransom  had  been 
in  the  author's  favourite  administration,  so  neglected,  as  to 
appear  to  have  been  little  less  than  tacitly  abandoned.  At 
home,  no  countenance  was  given  to  the  claimants  ;  and  when 
it  was  mentioned  in  parliament,  the  then  leader  did  not  seem, 
at  least,  a  very  sanguine  advocate  in  favour  of  the  claim.  These 
things  made  it  a  matter  of  small  difficulty  to  resume  and  press 
that  negociation  with  Spain.  However,  so  clear  was  our 
right,  that  the  then  ministers  resolved  to  revive  it ;  and  so 
little  time  was  lost,  that  though  that  administration  was  not 
completed  until  the  9th  of  July  1765, on  the20thof  the  follow- 
ing August,  Gen.  Conway  transmitted  a  strong  and  full  remon- 
stranceon  that  subject  to  theEarl  of  Rochefort.  The  argument, 
on  which  the  court  of  Madrid  most  relied,  was  the  dereliction 
of  that  claim  by  the  preceding  ministers.  However,  it  was 
still  pushed  with  so  much  vigour,  that  the  Spaniards,  from  a 
positive  denial  to  pay,  offered  to  refer  the  demand  to  arbi- 
tration. That  proposition  was  rejected  ;  and  the  demand 
being  still  pressed,  there  was  all  the  reason  in  the  world  to 
expect  its  being  brought  to  a  favourable  issue  ;  when  it  was 
thought  proper  to  change  the  administration.  Whether 
under  their  circumstances,  and  in  the  time  they  continued 
in  power,  more  could  be  done,  the  reader  will  judge  ;  who 
will  hear  with  astonishment  a  charge  of  remissness  from  those 
very  men,  whose  inactivity,  to  call  it  by  no  worse  a  name,  laid 
the  chief  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the  revived  negociation. 

As  to  the  Canada  bills,  this  author  thinks  proper  to  as- 
sert*, "  that  the  proprietors  found  themselves  under  a  neces- 
sity of  compounding  their  demands  upon  the  French  court, 
and  accepting  terms  which  they  had  often  rejected,  and 
which  the  Earl  of  Halifax  had  declared  he  would  sooner  for- 
feit his  hand  than  sign."  When  I  know  that  the  Earl  of  Hali- 
fax says  so,  the  Earl  of  Halifax  shall  have  an  answer  \  but  I 

*   p.  24. 


32S  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

persuade  myself  that  his  Lordship  has  given  no  authority  for 
this  ridiculous  rant.  In  the  mean  time,  I  shall  only  speak 
of  it  as  a  common.,  concern  of  that  ministry. 

In  the  first  place  then  I  observe,  that  a  convention,  for  the 
liquidation  of  the  Canada  bills,  was  concluded  under  the  ad- 
ministration of  1766;  when  nothing  was  concluded  under 
that  of  the  favourites  of  this  author. 

2.  This  transaction  was,  in  every  step  of  it,  carried  on  In 
concert  with  the  persons  interested,  and  was  terminated  to 
their  entire  satisfaction.  They  would  have  acquiesced  per- 
haps in  terms  somewhat  lower  than  those  which  were  ob- 
tained. The  author  is  indeed  too  kind  to  them.  He  will, 
however,  let  them  speak  for  themselves,  and  shew  what  their 
own  opinion  was  of  the  measures  pursued  in  their  favour  *, 
In  what  manner  the  execution  of  the  convention  has  been 
since  provided  foi*,  it  is  not  my  present  business  to  examine. 

3.  The  proprietors  had  absolutely  despaired  of  being  paid, 
at  any  time,  any  proportion  of  their  demand,  until  the  change 
of  that  ministry.  The  merchants  were  checked  and  dis- 
countenanced •,  they  had  often  been  told,  by  some  in  author- 
ity, of  the  cheap  rate  at  which  these  Canada  bills  had  been 
procured ;  yet  the  author  can  talk  of  the  composition  of  them 
as  a  necessity  induced  by  the  change  in  administration.  They 
found  themselves  indeed,  before  that  change,  under  a  neces- 
sity of  hinting  somewhat  of  bringing  the  matter  into  parlia- 
ment ;  but  they  were  soon  silenced,  and  put  in  mind  of  the 
fate  which  the  Newfoundland  business  had  there  met  with. 
Nothing  struck  them  more  than  the  strong  contrast  between 

*  "  They  are  happy  in  having  found,  in  your  zeal  for  the  dignity  of  this 
nation,  the  means  of  liquidating  their  claims,  and  of  concluding  with  the 
court  of  France  a  convention  for  the  final  satisfaction  of  their  demands ;  and 
have  given  us  commission,  in  their  names,  and  on  their  behalf,  most  earnestly 
to  entreat  your  acceptance  of  their  grateful  acknovirledgments. — Whether 
they  consider  themselves  as  Britons,  or  as  men  more  particularly  profiting 
by  your  generous  and  spirited  interposition,  they  see  great  reasons  to  be 
thankful,  for  having  been  supported  by  a  minister,  in  whose  publick  affec- 
tions, in  whose  wisdom  and  activity,  both  the  national  honour,  and  the  in- 
terest of  individuals,  have  been  at  once  so  well  supported  and  secured.'' 
Thanks  of  the  Canada  merchants  to  General  Conway,  London,  April  28, 
1766. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  329 

the  spirit,  and  method  of  proceeding,  of  the  two  administra- 
tions. 

4.  The  Earl  of  Halifax  never  did,  nor  could,  refuse  to 
sign  this  convention  •,  because  this  convention,  as  it  stands,, 
never  was  before  him.* 

The  author's  last  charge  on  that  ministry,  with  regard  to 
foreign  affairs,  is  the  Russian  treaty  of  commerce,  which 
the  author  thinks  fit  to  assert,  was  concluded  f  "  on  terms 
the  Earl  of  Buckinghamshire  had  refused  to  accept  of, 
and  which  had  been  deemed  by  former  ministers  disadvan- 
tageous to  the  nation,  and  by  the  merchants  unsafe  and 
unprofitable." 

Both  the  assertions  in  this  paragraph  are  equally  ground- 
less. The  treaty  then  concluded  by  Sir  George  Macart- 
ney was  not  on  the  terms  which  the  Earl  of  Buckingham- 
shire had  refused.  The  Earl  of  Buckinghamshire  never 
did  refuse  terms,  because  the  business  never  came  to  the 
point  of  refusal,  or  acceptance  ;  all  that  he  did  was,  to 
receive  the  Russian  project  for  a  treaty  of  commerce,  and 
to  transmit  it  to  England.  This  was  in  November  1761'; 
and  he  left  Petersburgh  the  January  following,  before  he 
could  even  receive  an  answer  from  his  own  court.  The 
conclusion  of  the  treaty  fell  to  his  successor.  Whoever 
will  be  at  the  trouble  to  compare  it  with  the  treaty  of 
1734-,  will,  I  believe,  confess,  that,  if  the  former  ministers 
could  have  obtained  such  terms,  they  were  criminal  in  not 
accepting  them. 

But  the  merchants  "  deemed  them  unsafe  and  unprofit- 
able." What  merchants  ?  As  no  treaty  ever  was  more  ma- 
turely considered,  so  the  opinion  of  the  Russia  merchants 
in  London  was  all  along  taken  •,  and  all  the  instructions  sent 
over  were  in  exact  conformity  to  that  opinion.  Our  minister 
there  made  no  step  without  having  previously  consulted  our 
merchants  resident  in  Petersburgh,  v/ho,  before  the  signing  of 
the  treaty,  gave  the  most  full  and  unanimous  testimony  in  its 
favour.    In  their  address  to  our  minister  at  that  court,  among 

*  See  the  Convention  itself,  printed  by  Owen  aud  Harrison,  Warwick- 
lane,  17G6;  particularly  the  articles  two  and  thirl een. 
f  P.  23. 

Vol.  T.  TT  u 


330  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LAl'E 

other  things,  they  say,  "  It  may  afford  some  additional  satis* 
faction  to  your  excellency,  to  receive  a  publick  acknowledg- 
ment oi  the  entire  and  unreserved  approbation  of  every  article. in 
this  treaty,  from  us  who  are  so  immediately  and  so  nearly 
concerned  in  its  consequences."  This  was  signed  by  the  con- 
sul general,  and  every  British  merchant  in  Petersburgh. 

The  approbation  of  those  immediately  concerned  in  the 
consequences  is  nothing  to  this  author.  He  and  his  friends 
have  so  much  tenderness  for  peoples'  interests,  and  under- 
stand them  so  much  better  than  they  do  themselves,  that, 
whilst  these  politicians  are  contending  for  the  best  of  possible 
terms,  the  claimants  are  obliged  to  go  without  any  terms  at 
all. 

One  of  the  first  and  justest  complaints  against  the  admin- 
istration of  the  author's  friends,  was  the  want  of  vigour  in 
their  foreign  negotiations.  Their  immediate  successors  en- 
deavoured to  correct  that  errour,  along  with  others  j  and 
there  was  scarcely  a  foreign  court,  in  which  the  new  spirit 
that  had  arisen  was  not  sensibly  felt,  acknowledged,  and  some- 
times complained  of.  On  their  coming  into  administration, 
they  found  the  demolition  of  Dunkirk  entirely  at  a  stand : 
instead  of  demolition,  they  found  construction;  for  the  French 
were  then  at  work  on  the  repair  of  the  jettees.  On  the  re- 
monstrances of  General  Conway,  some  parts  of  these  jettees 
were  immediately  destroyed.  The  Duke  of  Richmond  per- 
sonally surveyed  the  place,  and  obtained  a  fuller  knowledge 
of  its  true  state  and  condition  than  any  of  our  ministers  had 
done;  and,  in  consequence,  had  larger  offers  from  the  Duke 
of  Choiseul  than  had  ever  been  received.  But,  as  these  were 
short  of  our  just  expectations  under  the  treaty,  he  reje£led 
them.  Our  then  ministers,  knowing  that,  in  their  admin- 
istration, the  peoples'  minds  were  set  at  ease  upon  all  the  es- 
sential points  of  publick  and  private  liberty,  and  that  no  pro- 
ject of  theirs  could  endanger  the  concord  of  the  empire,  were 
under  no  restraint  from  pursuing  every  just  demand  upon 
foreign  nations. 

The  author,  towards  the  end  of  this  work,  falls  into  re- 
flections upon  the  state  of  publick  morals  in  this  country : 
he  draws  use  from  this  doctrine,  by  recommending  his  friend 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  331 

to  the  king  and  the  publick,  as  another  Duke  of  Sully  -,  and 
he  concludes  the  whole  performance  with  a  very  devout 
prayer. 

The  prayers  of  politicians  may  sometimes  be  sincere;  and 
as  this  prayer  is  in  substance,  that  the  author,  or  his  friends, 
may  be  soon  brought  into  power,  I  have  great  reason  to  be- 
lieve it  is  very  much  from  the  heart.  It  must  be  owned  too 
that  after  he  has  drawn  such  a  picture,  such  a  shocking  pic- 
ture, of  the  state  of  this  country,  he  has  great  faith  in  think- 
ing the  means  he  prays  for  sufficient  to  relieve  us :  after  the 
character  he  has  given  of  its  inhabitants  of  all  ranks  and 
classes,  he  has  great  charity  in  caring  much  about  them;  and 
indeed,  no  less  hope,  in  being  of  opinion,  that  such  a  detest- 
able nation  can  ever  become  the  care  of  Providence.  He  has 
not  even  found  five  good  men  in  our  devoted  city. 

He  talks  indeed  of  men  of  virtue  and  ability.  But  where 
are  his  men  of  virtue  and  ability  to  be  found  ?  Are  they  in 
the  present  administration  ?  never  were  a  set  of  people  more 
blackened  by  this  author.  Are  they  among  the  party  of  those 
(no  small  body)  who  adhere  to  the  system  of  1766  ?  these, 
it  is  the  great  purpose  of  this  book  to  calumniate.  Are  they 
the  persons  who  acted  with  his  great  friend,  since  the  change 
in  1762,  to  his  removal  in  1765  ?  scarcely  any  of  these  are 
now  out  of  employment ;  and  we  are  in  possession  of  his  de- 
sideratum. Yet  I  think  he  hardly  means  to  select,  even  some 
of  the  highest  of  them,  as  examples  fit  for  the  reformation 
of  a  corrupt  world. 

He  observes,  that  the  virtue  of  the  most  exemplary  prince 
that  ever  swayed  a  sceptre  *  "  can  never  warm  or  illuminate 
the  body  of  his  people,  if  foul  mirrors  are  placed  so  near  him 
as  to  refract  and  dissipate  the  rays  at  their  first  emanation." 
Without  observing  upon  the  propriety  of  this  metaphor,  or 
asking  how  mirrors  come  to  have  lost  their  old  quality  of  re- 
flecting, and  to  have  acquired  that  of  refracting,  and  dissi- 
pating rays,  and  how  far  their  foulness  will  account  for  this 
change;  the  remark  itself  is  common  and  true:  no  less  true, 
and  equally  surprising  from  him,  is  that  which  immediately 


P.  46. 


•332  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

precedes  it ;  *  "  it  is  in  vain  to  endeavour  to  check  the  prog- 
ress of  irreligion  and  licentiousness,  by  punishing  such 
crimes  in  one  individual,  if  others  equally  culpable  are  re- 
warded with  the  honours  and  emoluments  of  the  state."  I 
am  not  in  the  secret  of  the  author's  manner  of  writing  ;  but 
it  appears  to  me,  that  he  must  intend  these  reflections  as  a 
satire  upon  the  administration  of  his  happy  years.  Were 
ever  the  honours  and  emoluments  of  the  state  more  lavishly 
squandered  upon  persons  scandalous  in  their  lives  than  during 
that  period  ^.  In  these  scandalous  lives,  was  there  any  thing 
more  scandalous  than  the  mode  of  punishing  one  culpable  in- 
dividual? In  that  individual,  is  any  thing  more  culpable  than 
his  having  been  seduced  by  the  example  of  some  of  those 
very  persons  by  whom  he  was  thus  persecuted  .'* 

The  author  is  so  eager  to  attack  others,  that  he  provides 
but  indifferently  for  his  own  defence.  I  believe,  without 
going  beyond  the  page  I  have  now  before  me,  he  is  very 
sensible,  that  I  have  sufficient  matter  of  further,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, of  heavier,  charge  against  his  friends,  upon  his  own  prin- 
ciple. But  it  is  because  the  advantage  is  too  great,  that  I 
decline  making  use  of  it.  I  wish  the  author  had  not  thought 
that  all  methods  are  lawful  in  party.  Above  all,  he  ought  to 
have  taken  care  not  to  wound  his  enemies  through  the  sides 
of  his  country.  This  he  has  done,  by  making  that  monstrous 
and  overcharged  picture  of  the  distresses  of  our  situation. 
No  wonder  that  he,  who  finds  this  country  in  the  same  con- 
dition with  that  of  France  at  the  time  of  Henry  the  Fourth, 
could  also  find  a  resemblance  between  his  political  friend  and 
the  Duke  of  Sully.  As  to  those  personal  resemblances,  people 
will  often  judge  of  them  from  their  affections :  they  may 
imagine  in  these  clouds  whatsoever  figures  they  please ;  but 
what  is  the  conformation  of  that  eye  which  can  discover  a 
resemblance  of  this  country  and  these  times  to  those  with 
which  the  author  compares  them  ?  France,  a  country  just  re- 
covered out  of  twenty-five  years  of  the  most  cruel  and  deso- 
lating civil  war  that  perhaps  was  ever  known.  The  kingdom, 
jmder  the  veil  of  momentary  quiet,  full  of  the  most  atrocious 

*  P.  46. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  333 

political,  Operating  upon  the  most  furious  fanatical  factions. 
Some  pretenders  even  to  the  crown  j  and  those  who  did  not 
pretend  to  the  whole,  aimed  at  the  partition  of  the  monarchy. 
There  were  almost  as  many  competitors  as  provinces ;  and  all 
abetted  by  the  greatest,  the  most  ambitious,  and  most  enter- 
prising power  in  Europe.  No  place  safe  from  treason  ;  no, 
not  the  bosoms  on  which  the  most  amiable  prince  that  ever 
lived  reposed  his  head ;  not  his  mistresses ;  not  even  his 
queen.  As  to  the  finances,  they  had  scarce  an  existence, 
but  as  a  matter  of  plunder  to  the  managers,  and  of  grants  to 
insatiable  and  ungrateful  courtiers. 

How  can  our  author  have  the  heart  to  describe  this  as  any 
sort  of  parallel  to  our  situation  ?  To  be  sure,  an  April  shower 
has  some  resemblance  to  a  water-spout ;  for  they  are  both 
wet :  and  there  is  some  likeness  between  a  summer  evening's 
breeze  and  an  hurricane ;  they  are  both  wind  :  but  who  can 
compare  our  disturbances,  our  situation,  or  our  finances,  to 
those  of  France  in  the  time  of  Henry  ?  Great  Britain  is  in- 
deed at  this  time  wearied,  but  not  broken,  with  the  efforts 
of  a  victorious  foreign  war  j  not  sufficiently  relieved  by  an 
inadequate  peace,  but  somewhat  benefited  by  that  peace,  and 
infinitely  by  the  consequences  of  that  war.  The  powers  of 
Europe  awed  by  our  victories,  and  lying  in  ruins  upon  every 
side  of  us.  Burthened  indeed  we  are  with  debt,  but  abound- 
ing with  resources.  We  have  a  trade,  not  perhaps  equal  to 
our  wishes,  but  more  than  ever  we  possessed.  In  effect,  no 
pretender  to  the  crown ;  nor  nutriment  for  such  desperate 
and  destructive  factions  as  have  formerly  shaken  this  kingdom. 

As  to  our  finances,  the  author  trifles  with  us.  When  Sully 
came  to  those  of  France,  in  what  order  was  any  part  of  the 
financial  system  ?  or  what  system  was  there  at  all  ?  There  is 
no  man  in  office  who  must  not  be  sensible  that  ours  is,  with- 
out the  act  of  any  parading  minister,  the  most  regular  and 
orderly  system  perhaps  that  was  ever  known  -,  the  best  se- 
cured against  all  frauds  in  the  collection,  and  ail  misapplica- 
tion in  the  expenditure  of  publick  money. 

I  admit  that,  in  this  flourishing  state  of  things,  there  are 
appearances  enough  to  excite  uneasiness  and  apprehension. 
I  admit  there  is  a  cankerworm  in  the  rose ; 


534-  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 


medio  defonte  leporum 


Surgii  atnari  a/iquid,  quod  in  ipsis  Jloribus  angat. 

This  is  nothing  else  than  a  spirit  of  disconnexion,  of  dis- 
trust, and  of  treachery  among  pubHck  men.  It  is  no  acci- 
deatal  evil;  nor  has  its  effect  been  trusted  to  the  usual  frailty 
of  nature  ;  the  distemper  has  been  inoculated.  The  author 
is  sensible  of  it,  and  we  lament  it  together.  This  distemper 
is  alone  sufficient  to  take  away  considerably  from  the  benefits 
of  our  constitution  and  situation,  and  perhaps  to  render  their 
continuance  precarious.  If  these  evil  dispositions  should 
spread  much  farther,  they  must  end  in  our  destruction  ;  for 
nothing  can  save  a  people  destitute  of  publick  and  private 
faith.  Howcvei-,  the  author,  for  the  present  state  of  things, 
has  extended  the  charge  by  much  too  widely  ;  as  men  are 
but  too  apt  to  take  the  measure  of  all  mankind  from  their 
own  particular  acquaintance.  Barren  as  this  age  may  be  in 
the  growth  of  honour  and  virtue,  the  country  does  not  want, 
at  this  moment,  as  strong,  and  those  not  a  few  examples,  as 
were  ever  known,  of  an  unshaken  adherence  to  principle, 
and  attachment  to  connexion,  against  every  allurement  of 
interesf.  Those  examples  are  not  furnished  by  the  great 
alone ;  nor  by  those,  whose  activity  in  publick  affairs  may 
render  it  suspected  that  they  make  such  a  character  one  of 
the  rounds  in  their  ladder  of  ambition ;  but  by  men  more 
quiet,  and  more  in  the  shade,  on  whom  an  unmixed  sense  of 
honour  alone  could  operate.  Such  examples  indeed  are  not 
furnished  in  great  abundance  amongst  those  who  are  the 
subjects  of  the  author's  panegyrick.  He  must  look  for  them 
in  another  camp.  He  who  complains  of  the  ill  effects  of  a 
divided  and  heterogeneous  administration,  is  not  justifiable 
in  labouring  to  render  odious  in  the  eyes  of  the  publick  those 
men,  whose  principles,  whose  maxims  of  policy,  and  whose 
personal  character,  can  alone  administer  a  remedy  to  this 
capital  evil  of  the  age  ;  neither  is  he  consistent  with  himself, 
in  constantly  extolling  those  whom  he  knows  to  be  the  au- 
thors of  the  very  mischief  of  which  he  complains,  and  which 
the  whole  nation  feels  so  deeply. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  SS/J 

The  persons  who  are  the  objects  of  his  dishke  and  com- 
plaint are  many  of  them  of  the  first  famiUes,  and  weightiest 
properties,  in  the  kingdom ;  but  infinitely  more  distinguish- 
ed for  their  untainted  honour  publick  and  private,  and  their 
zealous  but  sober  attachment  to  the  constitution  of  their 
country,  than  they  can  be  by  any  birth,  or  any  station.  If 
they  are  the  friends  of  any  one  great  man  rather  than  an- 
other, it  is  not  that  they  make  his  aggrandizement  the  end 
of  their  union  ;  or  because  they  know  him  to  be  the  most 
active  in  caballing  for  his  connexions  the  largest  and  speediest 
emoluments.  It  is  because  they  know  him,  by  personal  ex- 
perience, to  have  wise  and  enlarged  ideas  of  the  publick 
good,  and  an  invincible  constancy  in  adhering  to  it ;  because 
they  are  convinced,  by  the  whole  tenour  of  his  actions,  that 
he  will  never  negotiate  away  their  honour  or  his  own  :  and 
that,  in  or  out  of  power,  change  of  situation  will  make  no 
alteration  in  his  conduct.  This  will  give  to  such  a  person,  in 
such  a  body,  an  authority  and  respect  that  no  minister  ever 
enjoyed  among  his  venal  dependants,  in  the  highest  pleni- 
tude of  his  power ;  such  as  servility  never  can  give,  such  as 
ambition  never  can  receive  or  relish. 

This  body  will  often  be  reproached  by  their  adversaries, 
for  want  of  ability  in  their  political  transactions ;  they  will 
be  ridiculed  for  missing  many  favourable  conjunctures,  and 
not  profiting  of  several  brilliant  opportunities  of  fortune  ;  but 
they  must  be  contented  to  endure  that  reproach ;  for  they 
cannot  acquire  the  reputation  of  that  kind  of  ability  without 
losing  all  the  other  reputation  they  possess. 

They  will  be  charged  too  with  a  dangerous  spirit  of  ex- 
clusion and  proscription,  for  being  unwilling  to  mix  In  schemes 
of  administration,  which  have  no  bond  of  union,  or  principle 
of  confidence.  That  charge  too  they  must  suffer  with  pa- 
tience. If  the  reason  of  the  thing  had  not  spoken  loudly 
enough,  the  miserable  examples  of  the  several  administrations 
constructed  upon  the  Idea  of  systematick  discord  would  be 
enough  to  frighten  them  from  such  monstrous  and  ruinous 
conjunctions.  It  is  however  false,  that  the  idea  of  an  united 
administration  carries  with  it  that  of  a  pi'oscription  of  any 
other  party.     It  does  indeed  imply  the  necessity  of  having 


336  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

the  great  strong  holds  of  government  in  well-united  hands, 
in  order  to  secure  the  predominance  of  right  and  uniform 
principles  ;  of  having  the  capital  offices  of  deliberation  and 
execution  in  those  who  can  deliberate  with  mutual  confi- 
dence, and  who  will  execute  what  is  resolved  with  firmness 
and  fidelity.  If  this  system  cannot  be  rigorously  adhered  to 
in  practice  (and  what  system  can  be  so?)  it  ought  to  be  the 
constant  aim  of  good  men  to  approach  as  nearly  to  it  as  pos- 
sible. No  system  of  that  kind  can  be  formed,  which  will 
not  leave  room  fully  sufficient  for  healing  coalitions :  but  no 
coalition,  which,  under  the  specious  name  of  independency, 
carries  in  its  bosom  the  unreconciled  principles  of  the  origin- 
al discord  of  parties,  ever  was,  or  will  be,  an  healing  coali- 
tion. Nor  will  the  mind  of  our  Sovereign  ever  know  re- 
pose, his  kingdom  settlement,  or  his  business  order,  effi- 
ciency, or  grace  with  his  people,  until  things  are  established 
upon  the  basis  of  some  set  of  men,  who  are  trusted  by  the 
publick,  and  who  can  trust  one  another. 

This  comes  rather  nearer  to  the  mark  than  the  author's 
description  of  a  proper  administration,  under  the  name  of 
men  of  ability  and  virtue^  which  conveys  no  definite  idea  at 
all ;  nor  does  it  apply  specifically  to  our  grand  national  dis- 
temper. All  parties  pretend  to  these  qualities.  The  pres- 
ent ministry,  no  favourites  of  the  author,  will  be  ready  enough 
to  declare  themselves  persons  of  virtue  and  ability  ;  and  if 
they  choose  a  vote  for  that  purpose,  perhaps  it  would  not  be 
quite  impossible  for  them  to  procure  it.  But,  if  the  disease 
be  this  distrust  and  disconnexion,  it  is  easy  to  know  who  are 
sound,  and  who  are  tainted;  who  are  fit  to  restore  us  to 
health,  who  to  continue,  and  to  spread  the  contagion.  The 
present  ministry  being  made  up  of  draughts  from  all  parties 
in  the  kingdom,  if  they  should  profess  any  adherence  to  the 
connexions  they  have  left,  they  must  convict  themselves  of 
the  blackest  treachery.  They  therefore  choose  rather  to  re- 
nounce the  principle  itself,  and  to  brand  it  with  the  name  of 
pride  and  faction.  This  test  with  certainty  discriminates  the 
opinions  of  men.  The  other  is  a  description  vague  and  un- 
satisfaftorv. 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  337 

As  to  the  unfortunate  gentlemen  who  may  at  any  time  com- 
pose that  system,  which,  under  the  plausible  title  of  an  ad- 
ministration, subsists  but  for  the  establishment  of  weakness 
and  confusion  ;  they  fall  into  different  classes,  with  different 
merits.  I  think  the  situation  of  some  people  in  that  state 
may  deserve  a  certain  degree  of  compassion ;  at  the  same 
time  that  they  furnish  an  example,  which,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
by  being  a  severe  one,  will  have  its  effect,  at  least,  on  the 
growing  generation ;  if  an  original  seduction,  on  plausible 
but  hollow  pretences,  into  loss  of  honour,  friendship,  con- 
sistency, security,  and  repose,  can  furnish  it.  It  is  possi- 
ble to  draw,  even  from  the  very  prosperity  of  ambition,  ex- 
amples of  terrour,  and  motives  to  compassion. 

I  believe  the  instances  are  exceedingly  rare  of  men  imme- 
diately passing  over  a  clear  marked  line  of  virtue  into  declared 
vice  and  corruption.  There  are  a  sort  of  middle  tints  and 
shades  between  the  two  extremes  ;  there  is  something  uncer- 
tain on  the  confines  of  the  two  empires  which  they  first  pass 
through,  and  which  renders  the  change  easy  and  impercepti- 
ble. There  are  even  a  sort  of  splendid  impositions  so  well 
contrived,  that,  at  the  very  time  the  path  of  rectitude  is 
quitted  for  ever,  men  seem  to  be  advancing  into  some  high- 
er and  nobler  road  of  publick  conduct.  Not  that  such  im- 
positions are  strong  enough  in  themselves  ;  but  a  powerful 
interest,  often  concealed  from  those  whom  it  affects,  works 
at  the  bottom,  and  secures  the  operation.  Men  are  thus  de- 
bauched away  from  those  legitimate  connexions,  which  they 
had  formed  on  a  judgment,  early  perhaps  but  sufficiently  ma- 
ture, and  wholly  unbiassed.  They  do  not  quit  them  upon 
any  ground  of  complaint,  for  grounds  of  juft  complaint  rnay 
exist,  but  upon  the  flattering  and  most  dangerous  of  all  prin- 
ciples, that  of  mending  what  is  well.  Gradually  they  are 
habituated  to  other  company  ;  and  a  change  in  their  habi- 
tudes soon  makes  a  way  for  a  change  in  their  opinions.  Cer- 
tain persons  are  no  longer  so  very  frightful,  when  they  come 
to  be  known  and  to  be  serviceable.  As  to  their  old  friends, 
the  transition  is  easy  ;  from  friendship  to  civility  ;  from  civ- 
ility to  enmity  :  few  are  the  steps  from  dereliction  to  per- 
secution. 

Vol.  T.  W  w 


338  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

People  not  very  well  grounded  in  the  principles  of  publick 
morality  find  a  set  of  maxims  in  office  ready  made  for  them, 
which  they  assume  as  naturally  and  inevitably,  as  any  of  tjie 
insignia  or  instruments  of  the  situation.  A  certain  tone  of 
the  solid  and  practical  is  immediately  acquired.  Every  former 
profession  of  publick  spirit  is  to  be  considered  as  a  debauch 
of  youth,  or,  at  best,  as  a  visionary  scheme  of  unattainable 
perfection.  The  very  idea  of  consistency  is  exploded.  The 
convenience  of  the  business  of  the  day  is  to  furnish  the  prin- 
ciple for  doing  it.  Then  the  whole  ministerial  cant  is  quickly 
got  by  heart.  The  prevalence  of  faction  is  to  be  lamented. 
All  opposition  is  to  be  regarded  as  the  effect  of  envy  and  dis- 
appointed ambition.  All  administrations  are  declared  to  be 
alike.  The  same  necessity  justifies  all  their  measures.  It  is 
no  longer  a  matter  of  discussion,  who  or  what  administration 
is ;  but  that  administration  is  to  be  supported,  is  a  general 
maxim.  Flattering  themselves  that  their  power  is  become 
necessary  to  the  support  of  all  order  and  government ;  every 
thing  which  tends  to  the  support  of  that  power  is  sanctified, 
and  becomes  a  part  of  the  publick  interest. 

Growing  every  day  more  formed  to  affairs,  and  better 
knit  in  their  limbs,  when  the  occasion  (now  the  only  rule) 
requires  it,  they  become  capable  of  sacrificing  those  very 
persons  to  whom  they  had  before  sacrificed  their  original, 
friends.  It  is  now  pnly  in  the  ordinary  course  of  business  to 
alter  an  opinion,  or  to  betray  a  connexion.  Frequently  re- 
linquishing one  set  of  men  and  adopting  another,  they  grow 
into  a  total  indifference  to  human  feeling,  as  they  had  before 
to  moral  obligation ;  until,  at  length,  no  one  original  im- 
pression remains  upon  their  minds  j  every  principle  is  ob- 
literated ;  every  sentiment  effaced. 

In  the  mean  time,  that  power,  which  all  these  changes 
aimed  at  securing,  remains  still  as  tottering  and  as  uncertain 
as  ever.  They  are  delivered  up  into  the  hands  of  those  who 
feel  neither  respect  for  their  persons,  nor  gratitude  for  their 
favours  ;  who  are  put  about  them  in  appearance  to  serve,  in 
reality  to  govern  them  ;  and,  when  the  signal  is  given,  to 
abandon  and  destroy  them  in  order  to  set  up  some  newer 
dupe  of  ambition,  who  in  his  turn  is  to  be  abandoned  and 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  339 

destroyed.  Thus  living  in  a  state  of  continual  uneasiness  and 
ferment,  softened  only  by  the  miserable  consolation  of  giv- 
ing now  and  then  preferments  to  those  for  whom  they  have 
no  value  \  they  are  unhappy  in  their  situation,  yet  find  it 
impossible  to  resign.  Until,  at  length,  soured  in  temper, 
and  disappointed  by  the  very  attainment  of  their  ends,  in 
some  angry,  in  some  haughty,  or  some  negligent  moment, 
they  incur  the  displeasure  of  those  upon  whom  they  have 
rendered  their  very  being  dependent.  Then  perierunt  tem- 
pora  longi  servitii ;  they  are  cast  ofF  with  scorn ;  they  are 
turned  out,  emptied  of  all  natural  character,  of  all  intrinsick 
worth,  of  all  essential  dignity,  and  deprived  of  every  conso- 
lation of  friendship.  Having  rendered  all  retreat  to  old 
principles  ridiculous,  and  to  old  regards  impracticable,  not 
being  able  to  counterfeit  pleasure,  or  to  discharge  discontent, 
nothing  being  sincere,  or  right,  or  balanced  in  their  minds, 
it  is  more  than  a  chance,  that,  in  the  delirium  of  the  last 
stage  of  their  distempered  power,  they  make  an  insane  po- 
litical testament,  by  which  they  throw  all  their  remaining 
weight  and  consequence  into  the  scale  of  their  declared  ene- 
mies, and  the  avowed  authors  of  their  destruction.  Thus 
they  finish  their  course.  Had  it  been  possible  that  the  whole, 
or  even  a  great  part  of  these  effects  on  their  minds,  I  say 
nothing  of  the  effect  upon  their  fortunes,  could  have  ap- 
peared to  them  in  their  first  departure  from  the  right  line, 
it  is  certain  they  would  have  rejected  every  temptation  with 
horrour.  The  principle  of  these  remarks,  like  every  good 
principle  in  morality,  is  trite ;  but  its  frequent  application  is 
not  the  less  necessary. 

As  to  others,  who  are  plain  practical  men,  they  have  been 
guiltless  at  all  times  of  all  publick  pretence.  Neither  the 
author  nor  any  one  else,  has  reason  to  be  angry  with  them. 
They  belonged  to  his  friend  for  their  interest ;  for  their  in- 
terest they  quitted  him ;  and  when  it  is  their  interest,  he 
may  depend  i:pon  it,  they  will  return  to  their  former  con- 
nexion. Such  people  subsist  at  all  times,  and,  though  the 
nuisance  of  all,  are  at  no  time  a  worthy  subject  of  discus- 
sion. It  is  false  virtue  and  plausible  errour  that  do  the  mis- 
chief. 


34-0  OBSERVATIONS  ON  A  LATE 

If  men  come  to  government  with  right  dispositions,  they 
have  no:  that  unfavourable  subject  which  this  author  repre- 
sents to  work  upon.  Our  circumstances  are  indeed  critical  ; 
but  then  they  are  the  critical  circumstances  of  a  strong  and 
mighty  nation.  If  corruption  and  meanness  are  greatly 
spread,  they  are  not  spread  universally.  Many  publick  men 
are  hitherto  examples  of  publick  spirit  and  integrity.  Whole 
parties,  as  far  as  large  bodies  can  be  uniform,  have  preserved 
character.  However  they  may  be  deceived  in  some  partic- 
ulars, I  know  of  no  set  of  men  amongst  us,  which  does  not 
contain  persons,  on  whom  the  nation,  in  a  difficult  exigence, 
may  well  value  itself.  Private  life,  which  is  the  nursery  of 
the  commonwealth,  is  yet  in  general  pure,  and  on  the  whole 
disposed  to  virtue  ;  and  the  people  at  large  want  neither  gene- 
rosity nor  spirit.  No  small  part  of  that  very  luxury,  which 
is  so  much  the  subject  of  the  author's  declamation,  but 
which,  in  most  parts  of  life,  by  being  well  balanced  and  dif- 
fused, is  only  decency  and  convenience,  has  perhaps  as  many, 
or  more,  good  than  evil  consequences  attending  it.  It  cer- 
tainly excites  industry,  nourishes  emulation,  and  inspires 
some  sense  of  personal  value  into  all  ranks  of  people.  What 
we  want  is  to  establish  more  fully  an  opinion  of  uniformity, 
and  consistency  of  character,  in  the  leading  men  of  the  state  ; 
such  as  will  restore  some  confidence  to  profession  and  ap- 
pearance, such  as  will  fix  subordination  upon  esteem.  With- 
out this,  all  schemes  are  begun  at  the  wrong  end.  All  who 
join  in  them  are  liable  to  their  consequences.  All  men  who, 
under  whatever  pretext,  take  a  part  in  the  formation  or  the 
support  of  systems  constructed  in  such  a  manner  as  must,  in 
their  nature,  disable  them  from  the  execution  of  their  duty, 
have  made  themselves  guilty  of  all  the  present  distraction, 
and  of  the  future  ruin,  which  they  may  bring  upon  their 
country. 

It  is  a  serious  affair,  this  studied  disunion  in  government. 
In  cases  where  union  is  most  consulted  in  the  constitution  of 
a  ministry,  and  where  persons  are  best  disposed  to  promote  It, 
differences,  from  the  various  Ideas  of  men,  will  arise  ;  and, 
from  their  passions,  will  often  ferment  Into  violent  heats,  so 
as  greatly  to  disorder  all  publick  business.     What  must  be  the 


STATE  OF  THE  NATION.  34 1 

consequence,  when  the  very  distemper  is  made  the  basis  of 
the  constitution  ;  and  the  original  weakness  of  human  nature 
is  still  further  enfeebled  by  art  and  contrivance  ?  It  must  sub- 
vert government  from  the  very  foundation.  It  turns  our  pub- 
lick  councils  into  the  most  mischievous  cabals  •,  where  the 
consideration  is,  not  how  the  nation's  business  shall  be  carried 
on,  but  how  those  who  ought  to  carry  it  on  shall  circumvent 
each  other.  In  such  a  state  of  things,  no  order,  uniformity, 
dignity,  or  effect,  can  appear  in  our  proceedings  either  at 
home  or  abroad.  Nor  will  it  make  much  difference,  wheth- 
er some  of  the  constituent  parts  of  such  an  administration  are 
men  of  virtue  or  ability,  or  not  ;  supposing  it  possible  that 
such  men,  with  their  eyes  open,  should  choose  to  make  a  part 
in  such  a  body. 

The  effects  of  all  human  contrivances  are  in  the  hand  of 
Providence.  I  do  not  like  to  answer,  as  our  author  so  read- 
ily does,  for  the  event  of  any  speculation.  But  sure  the  na- 
ture of  our  disorders,  if  any  thing,  must  indicate  the  proper 
remedy.  Men  who  act  stead  ly  on  the  principles  I  have  sta- 
ted may  in  all  events  be  very  serviceable  to  their  country  ; 
in  one  case,  by  furnishing  (if  their  Sovereign  should  be  so 
advised)  an  administration  formed  upon  ideas  very  different 
from  those  which  have  for  some  time  been  unfortunately 
fashionable.  But,  if  this  should  not  be  the  case,  they  may 
be  still  serviceable  ;  for  the  example  of  a  large  body  of  men, 
steadily  sacrificing  ambition  to  principle,  can  never  be  with- 
out use.  It  will  certainly  be  prolifick,  and  draw  others  to 
an  imitation.     Vera  gloria  radices  agify  atque  etiam  propagatur. 

I  do  not  think  myself  of  consequence  enough  to  imitate  my 
author,  in  troubling  the  world  with  the  prayers  or  wishes  I 
may  form  for  the  publick  :  full  as  little  am  I  disposed  to  imi- 
tate his  professions  ;  those  professions  are  long  since  worn  out 
in  the  political  service.  If  the  work  will  not  speak  for  the 
author,  his  own  declarations  deserve  but  little  credit. 


APPENDIX. 


CO  much  misplaced  industry  has  been  used 
by  the  author  of  The  State  of  the  Nation,  as  well  as  by  other 
writers,  to  infuse  discontent  into  the  people,  on  account  of 
the  late  war,  and  of  the  effects  of  our  national  debt ;  that 
nothing  ought  to  be  omitted  which  may  tend  to  disabuse  the 
publick  upon  these  subjects.  When  I  had  gone  through  the 
foregoing  sheets,  I  recollected,  that,  in  pages  58,  59,  60,  I 
only  gave  the  comparative  states  of  the  duties  collected  by 
the  excise  at  large  j  together  with  the  quantities  of  strong 
beer  brewed  in  the  two  periods  which  are  there  compared. 
It  might  be  still  thought,  that  some  other  articles  of  popular 
consumption,  of  general  convenience,  and  connected  with 
our  manufactures,  might  possibly  have  declined.  I  therefore 
now  think  it  right  to  lay  before  the  reader  the  state  of  the 
produce  of  three  capital  duties  on  such  articles ;  duties  which 
have  frequently  been  made  the  subject  of  popular  complaint. 
The  duty  on  candles ;  that  on  soap,  paper,  &c. ;  and  that  on 
hides. 

Average  of  net  produce  of  duty  on  soap,  &c.         £. 
for  8  years,  ending  1767         -         _  -    264,902 

Average  of  ditto  for  8  years,  ending  1754    -   228,114 


Average  increase  £.  36,788 


Average  of  net  produce  of  duty  on  candles 

for  8  years,  ending  1767         -         .         _     155,789 
Average  of  ditto  for  8  years,  ending  1754   -     136,716 


Average  increase  £.   19,073 


344-  APPENDIX. 

Average  net  produce  of  duty  on  hides,  8 

years,  ending  1767        -         -  -  -      189,216 

Ditto  8  years,  ending  1754         -  -  -     168,200 


Average  increase  £.  21,016 


This  increase  has  not  arisen  from  any  additional  duties. 
None  have  been  imposed  on  these  articles  during  the  war. 
Notwithstanding  the  burthens  of  the  war,  and  the  late  dear- 
ness  of  provisions,  the  consumption  of  all  these  articles  has 
increased,  and  the  revenue  along  with  it. 

There  is  another  point  in  The  State  of  the  Nation,  to 
which,  I  fear,  I  have  not  been  so  full  in  my  answer  as  I 
ought  to  have  been,  and  as  I  am  well  warranted  to  be.  The 
author  has  endeavoured  to  throw  a  suspicion,  or  something 
more,  on  that  salutary,  and  indeed  necessary  measure  of 
opening  the  ports  in  Jamaica.  *  "  Orders  were  given,"  says 
he,  "  in  August,  1765,  for  the  free  admission  of  Spanish 
vessels  into  all  the  colonies."  He  then  observes,  that  the  ex- 
ports to  Jamaica  fell  j^. 40,904  short  of  those  of  1764;  and 
that  the  exports  of  the  succeeding  year,  1766,  fell  short  of 
those  of  1765,  about  eighty  pounds  j  from  whence  he  wisely 
infers,  that,  this  decline  of  exports  being  since  the  relaxation 
of  the  laws  of  trade,  there  is  a  just  ground  of  suspicion,  that 
the  colonies  have  been  supplied  with  foreign  commodities 
instead  of  British. 

Here,  as  usual  with  him,  the  author  builds  on  a  fact  which 
is  absolutely  false  ;  and  which,  being  so,  renders  his  whole 
hypothesis  absurd  and  impossible.  He  asserts,  that  the  order 
for  admitting  Spanish  vessels  was  given  in  August  1765. 
That  order  was  not  signed  at  the  treasury  board  until  the  15th 
day  of  the  November  follonving ,-  and  therefore  so  far  from  af- 
fecting the  exports  of  the  year  1765,  that,  supposing  all  pos- 
sible diligence  in  the  commissioners  of  the  customs  in  expe- 
diting that  order,  and  every  advantage  of  vessels  ready  to 
sail,  and  the  most  favourable  wind,  it  would  hardly  even  ar- 
rive in  Jamaica  within  the  limits  of  that  year. 

*  His  note,  p.  22, 


APPENDIX.  345 

This  order  could  therefore  by  no  possibility  be  a  cause  of 
the  decrease  of  exports  in  1765.  If  it  had  any  mischievous 
operation,  it  could  not  be  before  1766.  In  that  year,  ac- 
cording to  our  author,  the  exports  fell  short  of  the  preceding, 
just  eighty  pounds.  He  is  welcome  to  that  diminution  j  and 
to  all  the  consequences  he  can  draw  from  it. 

But,  as  an  auxiliary  to  account  for  this  dreadful  loss,  he 
brings  in  the  Free-port  act,  which  he  observes  (for  his  con- 
venience) to  have  been  made  in  spring,  1766;  but  (for  his 
convenience  likewise)  he  forgets,  that,  by  the  express  pro- 
vision of  the  act,  the  regulation  was  not  to  be  in  force  in 
Jamaica  until  the  November  following.  Miraculous  must  be 
the  activity  of  that  contraband  whose  operation  in  America 
could,  before  the  end  of  that  year,  have  re-acted  upon  Eng- 
land, and  checked  the  exportation  from  hence  !  unless  he 
chooses  to  suppose,  that  the  merchants,  at  whose  solicitation 
this  act  had  been  obtained,  were  so  frighted  at  the  accom- 
plishment of  their  own  most  earnest  and  anxious  desire,  that, 
before  any  good  or  evil  effect  from  it  could  happen,  they 
immediately  put  a  stop  to  all  further  exportation. 

It  is  obvious  that  we  must  look  for  the  true  effect  of  that 
act  at  the  time  of  its  first  possible  operation,  that  is,  in  the 
year  1767.     On  this  idea  how  stands  the  account  ? 

1764  Exports  to  Jamaica  -         -         _  456,528 

1765 415,624 

1766 415,544 

1767  (first  year  of  the  Free-port  act)         -  467,681 

This  author,  for  the  sake  of  a  present  momentary  credit,  will 
hazard  any  future  and  permanent  disgrace.  At  the  time  he 
wrote,  the  account  of  1767  could  not  be  made  up.  This  was 
the  very  first  year  of  the  trial  of  the  Free-port  act ;  and  we 
find  that  the  sale  of  British  commodities  is  so  far  from  lessen- 
ed by  that  act,  that  the  export  of  1767  amounts  to  ^\52,00O 
more  than  that  of  either  of  the  two  preceding  years,  and  is 
j^. 11,000  above  that  of  his  standard  year  1764.  If  I  could 
prevail  on  myself  to  argue  in  favour  of  a  gi^eat  commercial 
Vol.  I.  X  X 


346  APPENDIX. 

scheme  from  the  appearance  of  things  in  a  single  year,  I 
should  from  this  increase  of  export  infer  the  beneficial  effects 
of  that  measure.  In  truth,  it  is  not  wanting.  Notning  but 
the  thickest  ignorance  of  the  Jamaica  trade  could  have  u.ade 
any  otje  entertain  a  fancy,  that  the  least  ill  effect  on  our 
commerce  could  follow  from  this  opening  of  the  ports.  But, 
if  the  author  argues  the  effect  of  regulations  in  the  American 
trade  from  the  export  of  the  year  in  which  they  are  made, 
or  even  of  the  following ;  why  did  he  not  apply  this  rule  to 
his  own  ?  He  had  the  same  paper  before  him  which  I  have 
now  before  me.  He  must  have  seen  that  in  his  standard 
year  (the  year  1764),  the  principal  year  of  his  new  regu- 
lations, the  export  fell  no  less  than  j^.  128, 450  short  of  that 
in  1763  !  Did  the  export  trade  revive  by  these  regulations 
in  1765,  during  which  year  they  continued  in  their  full 
force .''  It  fell  about  ^.40,000  still  lower.  Here  is  a  fall  of 
y.  168, 000;  to  account  for  which,  would  have  become  the 
author  much  better  than  piddling  for  an  ;^.80  fall  in  the 
year  1766  (the  only  year  in  which  the  order  he  objects  to 
could  operate),  or  in  presuming  a  fall  of  exports  from  a  reg- 
ulation vvhich  took  place  only  in  November  1766;  whose 
effects  could  not  appear  until  the  following  year  ;  and  which, 
when  they  do  appear,  utterly  overthrow  all  his  flimsy  reasons 
and  affected  suspicions  upon  the  effect  of  opening  the  ports. 

This  author,  in  the  same  paragraph,  says,  that  "  it  was  assert- 
ed by  the  American  factors  and  agents^  that  the  commanders  of 
our  ships  of  war  and  tenders,  having  custom-house  commis- 
sions, and  the  strict  orders  given  in  1764  for  a  due  execution 
of  the  laws  of  trade  in  the  colonies,  had  deterred  the  Span- 
iards from  trading  with  us  ;  that  the  sale  of  British  manufac- 
tures in  the  "West  Indies  had  been  greatly  lessened,  and  the 
receipt  of  large  sums  of  specie  prevented." 

If  the  American  factors  and  agents  asserted  this,  they  had 
good  ground  for  their  assertion.  They  knew  that  the  Span- 
ish vessels  had  been  driven  from  our  ports.  The  author  does 
not  positively  deny  the  fact.  If  he  should,  it  will  be  prov- 
ed. When  the  factors  connected  this  measure  and  its  nat- 
ural consequences,  with  an  actual  fall  in  the  exports  to  Ja- 
maica, to  no  less  an  amount  than  ^.128,450  in  one  year,  and 


APPENDIX.  34,7 

With  a  further  fall  in  the  next,  is  their  assertion  very  wonder- 
ful ?  The  author  himself  is  full  as  much  alarmed  by  a  fall  of 
only  /". 40,000  ;  for,  giving  him  the  facts  which  he  chooses  to 
coin,  it  is  no  more.  The  expulsion  of  the  Spanish  vessels  must 
certainly  have  been  one  cause,  if  not  of  the  first  declension  of 
the  exports,  yet  of  their  continuance  in  their  reduced  state. 
Other  causes  had  their  operation,  without  doubt.  In  what 
degree  each  cause  produced  its  effect,  it  is  hard  to  determine. 
But  the  fact  of  a  fall  of  exports  upon  the  restraining  plan, 
and  of  a  rise  upon  the  taking  place  of  the  enlarging  plan, 
is  established  beyond  all  contradiction. 

This  author  says,  that  the  facts  relative  to  the  Spanish 
trade  were  asserted  by  American  factors  and  agents  ;  insinu- 
ating, that  the  ministry  of  1766  had  no  better  authority  for 
their  plan  of  enlargement  than  such  assertions.  The  moment 
he  chooses  it,  he  shall  see  the  very  same  thing  asserted  by 
governors  of  provinces,  by  commanders  of  men  of  war,  and 
by  officers  of  the  customs ;  persons  the  most  bound  in  duty 
to  prevent  contraband,  and  the  most  interested  in  the  seiz- 
ures to  be  made  in  consequence  of  strict  regulation.  I  sup- 
press them  for  the  present  j  wishing  that  the  author  may  not 
drive  me  to  a  more  full  discussion  of  this  matter  than  it  may 
be  altogether  prudent  to  enter  into.  I  wish  he  had  not  made 
any  of  these  discussions  necessary. 


THOUGHTS 


ON 


THE   CAUSE    OF  THE    PRESENT 

DISCONTENTS. 


Hoc  vero  occultum,  intestinum,  domesticum  malum,  non  modo  non 
existit,  verum  etiam  opprimit,  antiquam  perspicere  atque  explorare 
potueris.  Cic. 


1770. 


THOUGHTS 


ON 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  PRESENT 
DISCONTENTS. 

IT  is  an  undertaking  of  some  degree  of  del- 
icacy to  examine  into  the  cause  of  publick  disorders.  If  a 
man  happens  not  to  succeed  in  such  an  inquiry,  he  will  be 
thought  weak  and  visionary ;  if  he  touches  the  true  griev- 
ance, there  is  a  danger  that  he  may  come  near  to  persons  of 
weight  and  consequence,  who  will  rather  be  exasperated  at 
the  discovery  of  their  errours,  than  thankful  for  the  occasion 
of  correcting  them.  If  he  should  be  obliged  to  blame  the 
favourites  of  the  people,  he  will  be  considered  as  the  tool  of 
power ;  if  he  censures  those  in  power,  he  will  be  looked  on 
as  an  instrument  of  faction.  But  in  all  exertions  of  duty 
something  is  to  be  hazarded.  In  cases  of  tumult  and  dis- 
order, our  law  has  invested  every  man,  in  some  sort,  with 
the  authority  of  a  magistrate.  When  the  affairs  of  the  nation 
are  distracted,  private  people  are,  by  the  spirit  of  that  law, 
justified  in  stepping  a  little  out  of  their  ordinary  sphere. 
They  enjoy  a  privilege,  of  somewhat  more  dignity  and  effect, 
than  that  of  idle  lamentation  over  the  calamities  of  their 
country.  They  may  look  into  them  narrowly ;  they  may 
reason  upon  them  liberally ;  and  if  they  should  be  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  discover  the  true  source  of  the  mischief,  and  to 
suggest  any  probable  method  of  removing  it  though  they 
may  displease  the  rulers  for  the  day,  they  are  certainly  of 
service  to  the  cause  of  government.     Government  is  deeply 


352  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

interested  m  every  thing  which,  even  through  the  medium 
of  some  temporary  uneasiness,  may  tend  finally  to  compose 
the  minds  of  the  subject,  and  to  conciliate  their  affections.  I 
have  nothing  to  do  here  with  the  abstract  value  of  the  voice 
of  the  people.  But  as  long  as  reputation,  the  most  precious 
possession  of  every  individual,  and  as  long  as  opinion,  the 
great  support  of  the  state,  depend  entirely  upon  that  voice, 
it  can  never  be  considered  as  a  thing  of  little  consequence 
either  to  individuals  or  to  government.  Nations  are  not 
primarily  ruled  by  laws  ;  less  by  violence.  Whatever  original 
energy  may  be  supposed  either  in  force  or  regulation,  the 
operation  of  both  is,  in  truth,  merely  instrumental.  Nations 
are  governed  by  the  same  methods,  and  on  the  same  prin- 
ciples, by  which  an  individual  without  authority  is  often  able 
to  govern  those  who  are  his  equals  or  his  superiours ;  by  a 
knowledge  of  their  temper,  and  by  a  judicious  manage- 
ment of  it ;  I  mean, — when  publick  affairs  are  steadily  and 
quietly  conducted  •,  and  when  government  is  nothing  but  a 
continued  scuffle  between  the  magistrate  and  the  multitude  5 
in  which  sometimes  the  one  and  sometimes  the  other  is  up- 
permost ;  in  which  they  alternately  yield  and  prevail,  in  a 
series  of  contemptible  victories,  and  scandalous  submissions. 
The  temper  of  the  people  amongst  whom  he  presides  ought 
therefore  to  be  the  first  study  of  a  statesman.  And  the 
knowledge  of  this  temper  it  is  by  no  means  impossible  for 
him  to  attain,  if  he  has  not  an  interest  in  being  ignorant  of 
what  it  is  his  dutv  to  learn. 

To  complain  of  the  age  we  live  in,  to  murmur  at  the  pres- 
ent possessors  of  power,  to  lament  the  past,  to  conceive  ex- 
travagant hopes  of  the  future,  are  the  common  dispositions  of 
the  greatest  part  of  mankind  ;  indeed  the  necessary  effects  of 
the  ignorance  and  levity  of  the  vulgar.  Such  complaints  and 
humours  have  existed  in  all  times  ;  yet  as  all  times  have  not 
been  alike,  true  political  sagacity  manifests  itself,  in  distin- 
guishing that  complaint  which  only  characterizes  the  general 
infirmity  of  human  nature,  from  those  which  are  symptoms  of 
the  particular  distemperature  of  our  own  air  and  season. 

Nobody,  I  believe,  will  consider  it  merely  as  the  language 
of  spleen  or  disappointment,  if  I  say,  that  there  is  something 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  353 

particularly  alarming  in  the  present  conjuncture.  There  is 
hardly  a  man  in  or  out  of  power  who  holds  any  other  lan- 
guage. That  government  is  at  once  dreaded  and  contemned; 
that  the  laws  are  despoiled  of  all  their  respected  and  salutary 
terrours  ;  that  their  inaction  is  a  subject  of  ridicule,  and  their 
exertion  of  abhorrence  ;  that  rank,  and  office,  and  title,  and 
all  the  solemn  plausibilities  of  the  world,  have  lost  their  rev- 
erence and  effect  j  that  our  foreign  politicks  are  as  much 
deranged  as  our  domestick  economy ;  that  our  dependencies 
are  slackened  in  their  affection,  and  loosened  from  their  obedi- 
ence j  that  we  know  neither  how  to  yield  nor  how  to  en- 
force ;  that  hardly  any  thing  above  or  below,  abroad  or  at 
home,  is  sound  and  entire  ;  but  that  disconnexion  and  con- 
fusion, in  offices,  in  parties,  in  families,  in  parliament,  in  the 
nation,  prevail  beyond  the  disorders  of  any  former  time  ; 
these  are  facts  universally  admitted  and  lamented. 

This  state  of  things  is  the  more  extraordinary,  because  the 
great  parties  which  formerly  divided  and  agitated  the  king- 
dom are  known  to  be  in  a  manner  entirely  dissolved.  No 
great  external  calamity  has  visited  the  nation ;  no  pestilence 
or  famine.  We  do  not  labour  at  present  under  any  scheme 
of  taxation  new  or  oppressive  in  the  quanticy  or  in  the  mode. 
Nor  are  we  engaged  in  unsuccessful  war ;  in  which,  our  mis- 
fortunes might  easily  pervert  our  judgment  j  and  our  minds, 
sore  from  the  loss  of  national  glory,  might  feel  every  blow 
of  fortune  as  a  crime  in  government. 

It  is  impossible  that  the  cause  of  this  strange  distemper 
should  not  sometimes  become  a  subject  of  discourse.  It  is  a 
compliment  due,  and  which  I  willingly  pay,  to  those  who 
administer  our  affairs,  to  take  notice  in  the  first  place  of  their 
speculation.  Our  ministers  are  of  opinion,  that  the  increase 
of  our  trade  and  manufactures,  that  our  growth  by  coloniza- 
tion and  by  conquest,  have  concurred  to  accumulate  immense 
wealth  in  the  hands  of  some  individuals;  and  thjs  again  be- 
ing dispersed  among  the  people,  has  rendered  them  univer- 
sally proud,  ferocious,  and  ungovernable  ;  that  the  insolence 
of  some  from  their  enormous  wealth,  and  the  boldness  of 
others  from  a  guilty  poverty,  have  rendered  them  capable  of 
the  most  atrocious  attempts ;  so  that  they  have  trampled  upon 
Vol.  I.  Y  Y 


y 


354.  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

all  subordination,  and  violently  borne  down  the  unarmed 
laws  of  a  free  government  -,  barriers  too  feeble  against  the 
fury  of  a  populace  so  fierce  and  licentious  as  ours.  They 
contend  that  no  adequate  provocation  has  been  given  for  so 
spreading  a  discontent ;  our  affairs  having  been  conducted 
throughout  with  remarkable  temper  and  consummate  wis- 
dom. The  wicked  industry  of  some  libellers,  joined  to  the 
intrigues  of  a  few  disappointed  politicians,  have,  in  their 
opinion,  been  able  to  produce  this  unnatural  ferment  in  the 
nation. 

Nothing  indeed  can  be  more  unnatural  than  the  present 
convulsions  of  this  country,  if  the  above  account  be  a  true 
one.  I  confess  I  shall  assent  to  it  with  great  reluctance,  and 
only  on  the  compulsion  of  the  clearest  and  firmest  proofs ; 
because  their  account  resolves  itself  into  this  short  but  dis- 
couraging proposition,  "  That  we  have  a  very  good  ministry, 
but  that  we  are  a  very  bad  people  •"  that  we  set  ourselves  to 
bite  the  hand  that  feeds  us ;  that  with  a  malignant  insanity 
we  oppose  the  measures,  and  ungratefully  villify  the  persons, 
of  those  whose  sole  object  is  our  own  peace  and  prosperity. 
If  a  few  puny  libellers,  acting  under  a  knot  of  factious  poli- 
ticians, without  virtue,  parts,  or  character  (such  they  are  con- 
stantly represented  by  these  gentlemen),  are  sufficient  to  ex- 
cite this  disturbance,  very  perverse  must  be  the  disposition 
of  that  people,  amongst  whom  such  a  disturbance  can  be  ex- 
cited by  such  means.  It  is  besides  no  small  aggravation  of 
the  publick  misfortune,  that  the  disease,  on  this  hypothesis, 
appears  to  be  without  remedy.  If  the  wealth  of  the  nation 
be  the  cause  of  its  turbulence,  I  imagine  it  is  not  proposed 
to  introduce  poverty,  as  a  constable  to  keep  the  peace.  If 
our  dominions  abroad  are  the  roots  which  feed  all  this  rank 
luxuriance  of  sedition,  it  is  not  intended  to  cut  them  off  in 
order  to  famish  the  fruit.  If  our  liberty  has  enfeebled  the 
executive  power,  there  is  no  design,  I  hope,  to  call  in  the 
aid  of  despotism,  to  fill  up  the  deficiencies  of  law.  Whatever 
may  be  intended,  these  things  are  not  yet  professed.  We 
seem  therefore  to  be  driven  to  absolute  despair ;  for  we  have 
no  other  materials  to  work  upon,  but  those  out  of  which 
God  has  been  pleased  to  form  the  inhabitants  of  this  island- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  355 

if  these  be  radically  and  essentially  vicious,  all  that  can  be 
said  is,  that  those  men  are  very  unhappy,  to  v/hose  fortune 
or  duty  it  falls  to  administer  the  affairs  of  this  untoward 
people.  I  hear  it  indeed  sometimes  asserted,  that  a  steady 
perseverance  in  the  present  measures,  and  a  rigorous  punish- 
ment of  those  who  oppose  them,  will  in  course  of  time  in- 
fallibly put  an  end  to  these  disorders.  But  this,  in  my  opin- 
ion, is  said  without  much  observation  of  our  present  dispo- 
sition, and  without  any  knowledge  at  all  of  the  general  na- 
ture of  mankind.  If  the  matter  of  which  this  nation  is  com- 
posed be  so  very  fermentable  as  these  gentlemen  describe  it, 
leaven  never  will  be  wanting  to  work  it  up,  as  long  as  dis- 
content, revenge,  and  ambition,  have  existence  in  the  world. 
Particular  punishments  are  the  cure  for  accidental  distempers 
in  the  state  ;  they  inflame  rather  than  allay  those  heats  which 
arise  from  the  settled  mismanagement  of  the  government,  or 
from  a  natural  indisposition  in  the  people.  It  is  of  the  ut- 
most moment  not  to  make  mistakes  in  the  use  of  strong 
measures  j  and  firmness  is  then  only  a  virtue  when  it  accom- 
panies the  most  perfect  wisdom.  In  truth,  inconstancy  is  a 
sort  of  natural  corrective  of  folly  and  ignorance. 

I  am  not  one  of  those  who  think  that  the  people  are  never 
in  the  wrong.  They  have  been  so,  frequently  and  outrageous- 
ly, both  in  other  countries  and  in  this.  But  I  do  say,  that 
in  all  disputes  between  them  and  their  rulers,  the  presump- 
tion is  at  least  upon  a  par  in  favour  of  the  people.  Experience 
may  perhaps  justify  me  in  going  further.  Where  popular  dis- 
contents have  been  very  prevalent,  it  may  well  be  affirmed 
and  supported,  that  there  has  been  generally  something  found 
amiss  in  the  constitution,  or  in  the  conduct  of  government. 
The  people  have  no  interest  in  disorder.  When  they  do 
wrong,  it  is  their  errour,  and  not  their  crime.  But  with  the 
governing  part  of  the  state,  it  is  far  otherwise.  They  cer- 
tainly may  act  ill  by  design,  as  well  as  by  mistake.  "  Les 
revolutions  qui  arrivent  dans  les  grands  etats  ne  sont  point  un 
effect  du  hazardy  ni  du  caprice  des  peuples.  Rien  ne  revoke  les 
grands  d^un  royaume  comme  un  goUvernement  foible  et  de- 
range.    Pour  la  populace,  ce  tCest  jamais  par  envie  d'attaquer 


55(J  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

qu^ die  se  soulevey  mats  par  impatience  de  sottffrir*^  These  are 
the  words  of  a  great  man ;  of  a  minister  of  state ;  and  a 
zealous  assertor  of  monarchy.  They  are  appHed  to  the  s'^s- 
tein  of  favouritism  which  was  adopted  by  Henry  the  Third  of 
France,  and  to  the  dreadful  consequences  it  produced.  What 
he  says  of  revolutions,  is  equally  true  of  all  great  disturbances. 
If  this  presumption  in  favour  of  the  subjects  against  the  trus- 
tees of  power  be  not  the  more  probable,  I  am  sure  it  is  the 
more  comfortable  speculation  \  because  it  is  more  easy  to 
change  an  administration  than  to  reform  a  people. 

Upon  a  supposition,  therefore,  that  in  the  opening  of  the . 
cause  the  presumptions  stand  equally  balanced  between  the 
parties,  there  seems  sufficient  ground  to  entitle  any  person  to 
a  fair  hearing,  who  attempts  some  other  scheme  beside  that 
easy  one  which  is  fashionable  in  some  fashionable  companies, 
to  account  for  the  present  discontents.  It  is  not  to  be  ar- 
gued that  we  endure  no  grievance,  because  our  grievances 
are  not  of  the  same  sort  with  those  under  which  we  laboured 
formerly ;  not  precisely  those  which  we  bore  from  the  Tu- 
dors,  or  vindicated  on  the  Stuarts.  A  great  change  has 
taken  place  in  the  affairs  of  this  country.  For  in  the  silent 
lapse  of  events  as  material  alterations  have  been  insensibly 
brought  about  in  the  policy  and  character  of  governments 
and  nations,  as  those  which  have  been  marked  by  the  tumult 
of  publick  revolutions. 

It  is  very  rare  indeed  for  men  to  be  wrong  in  their  feel- 
ings concerning  publick  misconduct ;  as  rare  to  be  right  in 
their  speculation  upon  the  cause  of  it.  I  have  constantly 
observed,  that  the  generality  of  people  are  fifty  years,  at 
least,  behindhand  in  their  politicks.  There  are  but  very  few, 
xvho  are  capable  of  comparing  and  digesting  what  passes  be- 
fore their  eyes  at  different  times  and  occasions,  so  as  to  form 
the  whole  into  a  distinct  system.  But  in  books  every  thing 
is  settled  for  them,  without  the  exertion  of  any  considerable 
diligence  or  sagacity.  For  which  reason  men  are  wise  with 
but  little  reflection,  and  good  with  little  self-denial,  in  the 
business  of  all  times  except  their  own.     We  are  very  uncor-s 

*  Mem.  de  Suliy,  Tom.  i.  p.  133. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  357 

rupt  and  tolerably  enlightened  judges  of  the  transactions  of 
past  ages ;  where  no  passions  deceive,  and  where  the  whole 
train  of  circumstances,  from  the  trifling  cause  to  the  tragical 
event,  is  set  in  an  orderly  series  before  us.     Few  are  the 
partisans  of  departed  tyranny ;  and  to  be  a  Whig  on  the  busi- 
ness of  an   hundred  years  ago,  is  very  consistent  with  every 
advantage  of  present  servility.     This  retrospective  wisdom, 
and  historical   patriotism,   are   things   of  wonderful   conve- 
nience :  and  serve  admirably  to  reconcile  the  old  quarrel  be- 
tween speculation  and  practice.     Many  a  stern  republican, 
after  gorging  himself  with  a  full  feast  of  admiration  of  the 
Grecian  commonwealths  and  of  our  true  Saxon  constitution, 
and  discharging  all  the  splendid  bile  of  his  virtuous  indig- 
nation on  King  John  and  King  James,   sits  down  perfectly 
satisfied  to  the  coarsest  work  and  homeliest  job  of  the  day  he 
lives  in.     I  believe  there  was  no  professed  admirer  of  Henry 
the  Eighth  among  the  instruments  of  the  last  King  James ; 
nor  in  the  court  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  was  there,  I  dare  say, 
to  be  found  a  single  advocate  for  the  favourites  of  Richard 
the  Second. 

No  complaisance  to  our  court,  or  to  our  age,  can  make 
me  believe  nature  to  be  so  changed,  but  that  publick  liberty 
will  be  among  us,  as  among  our  ancestors,  obnoxious  to  some 
person  or  other ;  and  that  oppoi'tunities  will  be  furnished 
for  attempting  at  least,  some  alteration  to  the  prejudice  of 
our  constitution.  These  attempts  will  naturally  vary  in  their 
mode  according  to  times  and  circumstances.  For  ambition, 
though  it  has  ever  the  same  general  views,  has  not  at  all 
times  the  same  means,  nor  the  same  particular  objects.  A 
great  deal  of  the  furniture  of  antient  tyranny  is  worn  to  rags  ; 
the  rest  is  entirely  out  of  fashion.  Besides,  there  are  few 
statesmen  so  very  clumsy  and  awkward  in  their  business,  as 
to  fall  into  the  identical  snare  which  has  proved  fatal  to  their 
predecessors.  When  an  arbitrary  imposition  is  attempted 
upon  the  subject,  undoubtedly  it  will  not  bear  on  its  fore- 
head the  name  of  Ship-money.  There  is  no  danger  that  an 
extension  of  the  Forest  laws  should  be  the  chosen  mode  of 
oppression  in  this  age.  And  when  we  hear  any  instance  of 
ministerial  rapacity,  to  the  prejudice  of  the  rights  of  private 


358  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

life,  it  will  certainly  not  be  the  exaction  of  two  hundred  pul- 
lets, from  a  woman  of  fashion,  for  leave  to  lie  with  her  own 
husband  *. 

Every  age  has  its  own  manners,  and  its  politicks  depend- 
ent upon  them ;  and  the  same  attempts  will  not  be  made 
against  a  constitution  fully  formed  and  matured,  that  were 
used  to  destroy  it  in  the  cradle,  or  to  resist  its  growth  during 
its  infancy. 

Against  the  being  of  parliament,  I  am  satisfied,  no  designs 
have  ever  been  entertained  since  the  revolution.  Every  one 
must  perceive,  that  it  is  strongly  the  interest  of  the  court,  to 
have  some  second  cause  interposed  between  the  ministers  and 
the  people.  The  gentlemen  of  the  house  of  commons  have 
an  interest  equally  strong,  in  sustaining  the  part  of  that  in- 
termediate cause.  However  they  may  hire  out  the  usufruct 
of  their  voices,  they  never  will  part  with  the  fee  and  inheri- 
tance. Accordingly  those  who  have  been  of  the  most  known 
devotion  to  the  will  and  pleasure  of  a  court,  have  at  the 
same  time  been  most  forward  in  asserting  a  high  authority  in 
the  house  of  commons.  When  they  knew  who  were  to  use 
that  authority,  and  how  it  was  to  be  employed,  they  thought 
it  never  could  be  carried  too  far.  It  must  be  always  the 
wish  of  an  unconstitutional  statesman,  that  a  house  of  com- 
mons who  are  entirely  dependent  upon  him,  should  have 
every  right  of  the  people  entirely  dependent  upon  their  pleas- 
ure. It  was  soon  discovered,  that  the  forms  of  a  free,  and 
the  ends  of  an  arbitrary  government,  were  things  not  alto- 
gether incompatible. 

The  power  of  the  crown,  almost  dead  and  rotten  as  Pre- 
rogative, has  grown  up  anew,  with  much  more  strength,  and 
far  less  odium,  under  the  name  of  Influence.  An  influence, 
which  operated  without  noise  and  without  violence  j  an  influ- 
ence which  converted  the  very  antagonist,  into  the  instru- 
ment, of  power  ;  which  contained  in  itself  a  perpetual  prin- 
ciple of  growth  and  renovation  ;  and  which  the  distresses  and 
the  prosperity  of  the  country  equally  tended  to  augment, 

*  "  Uxor  Hugoois  de  Nevill  dat  Domino  Regi  ducentas  Gallinas,  eo  quod 
possit  jacere  una  nocte  cum  Domino  suo  Hugone  de  Nevill."  Maddox,  Hist- 
£xch.  c.  xiii.  p.  S26. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  359 

was  an  admirable  substitute  for  a  prerogative,  that,  being  only 
the  offspring  of  antiquated  prejudices,  had  moulded  in  its  orig- 
inal stamina  irresistible  principles  of  decay  and  dissolution. 
Tne  ignorance  of  the  people  is  a  bottom  but  for  a  temporary 
system ;  the  interest  of  active  men  in  the  state  is  a  foundation 
perpetual  and  infallible.  However,  some  circumstances,  ari- 
sing, it  must  be  confessed,  in  a  great  degree  from  accident, 
prevented  the  effects  of  this  influence  for  a  long  time  from 
breaking  out  in  a  manner  capable  of  exciting  any  serious  ap- 
prehensions. Although  government  was  strong  and  flourish- 
ed exceedingly,  the  court  had  drawn  far  less  advantage  than 
one  would  imagine  from  this  great  source  of  power. 

At  the  revolution,  the  crown,  deprived,  for  the  ends  of  the 
revolution  itself,  of  many  prerogatives,  was  found  too  weak 
to  struggle  against  all  the  difficulties  which  pressed  so  new  and 
imsettied  a  government.  The  court  was  obliged  therefore  to 
delegate  a  part  of  its  powers  to  men  of  such  interest  as  could 
support,  and  of  such  fidelity  as  would  adhere  to,  its  establish- 
ment. Such  men  were  able  to  draw  in  a  greater  number  to 
a  concurrence  in  the  common  defence.  This  connexion, 
necessary  at  first,  continued  long  after  convenient ;  and  prop- 
erly conducted  might  indeed,  in  all  situations,  be  an  useful 
instrument  of  government.  At  the  same  time,  through  the 
intervention  of  men  of  popular  weight  and  character,  the  peo- 
ple possessed  a  security  for  their  just  portion  of  importance  in 
the  state.  But  as  the  title  to  the  crown  grew  stronger  by  long 
possession,  and  by  the  constant  increase  of  its  influence,  these 
helps  have  of  late  seemed  to  certain  persons  no  better  than 
incumbrances.  The  powerful  managers  for  government  were 
not  sufficiently  submissive  to  the  pleasure  of  the  possessors 
of  immediate  and  personal  favour,  sometimes  from  a  confi- 
dence in  their  own  strength  natural  and  acquired  ;  sometimes 
■from  a  fear  of  offending  their  friends,  and  weakening  that  lead 
in  the  country,  which  gave  them  a  consideration  independ- 
ent of  the  court.  Men  acted  as  if  the  court  could  receive,  as 
well  as  confer,  an  obligation.  The  influence  of  government, 
thus  divided  in  appearance  between  the  court  and  the  leaders 
of  parties,  became  in  many  cases  an  accession  rather  to  the 
popular  than  to  the  royal  scale ;  and  some  part  of  that  inJQu- 


3(J0  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

ence  which  would  otherwise  have  been  possessed  as  in  a  sort 
of  mortmain  and  unalienable  domain,  returned  again  to  the 
great  ocean  from  wlience  it  arose,  and  circulated  among  the 
people.  This  method  therefore  of  governing,  by  men  of 
great  natural  interest  or  great  acquired  consideration,  was 
viewed  in  a  very  invidious  light  by  the  true  lovers  of  ab- 
solute monarchy.  It  is  the  nature  of  despotism  to  abhor  pow- 
er held  by  any  means  but  its  own  momentary  pleasure  i  and 
to  anniliilate  all  intermediate  situations  between  boundless 
strength  on  its  own  part,  and  total  debility  on  the  part  of  the 
people. 

To  get  rid  of  all  this  intermediate  and  independent  irr- 
portance  and  to  secure  to  the  court  the  unlimited  and  uncontroul- 
ed  use  of  its  oiun  vast  injluence^  under  the  sole  direction  of  its 
own  private  favour y  has  for  some  years  past  been  the  great 
object  of  policy.  If  this  were  compassed,  the  influence  of 
the  crown  must  of  course  produce  ail  the  effects  which  the 
most  sanguine  partisans  of  the  court  could  possibly  desire. 
Government  might  then  be  carried  on  without  any  concur- 
rence on  the  part  of  the  people ;  without  any  attention  to 
the  dignity  of  the  greater,  or  to  the  affections  of  the  lower 
sorts.  A  new  project  was  therefore  devised,  by  a  certain  set 
of  intriguing  men,  totally  different  from  the  system  of  ad- 
ministration which  had  prevailed  since  the  accession  of  the 
House  of  Brunswick.  This  project,  I  have  heard,  was  first 
conceived  by  some  persons  in  the  court  of  Frederick  Prince 
of  Wales. 

The  earliest  attempt  in  the  execution  of  this  design  was 
to  set  up  for  minister,  a  person,  in  rank  indeed  respectable, 
and  very  ample  in  fortune ;  but  who,  to  the  moment  of  this 
vast  and  sudden  elevation,  was  little  known  or  considered  in 
the  kingdom.  To  him  the  whole  nation  was  to  yield  an  im- 
mediate and  implicit  submission.  But  whether  it  was  for 
want  of  firmness  to  bear  up  against  the  first  opposition ;  or 
that  things  were  not  yet  fully  ripened,  or  that  this  method 
was  not  found  the  most  eligible ;  that  idea  was  soon  aban- 
doned. The  instrumental  part  of  the  project  was  a  little  alter- 
ed, to  accommodate  it  to  the  time,  and  to  bring  things  more 
gradually  and  more  surely  to  the  one  great  end  proposed. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  361 

The  first  part  of  the  reformed  plan  was  to  draw  a  line 
nuhich  should  separate  the  court  from  the  ministry.  Hitherto 
these  names  had  been  looked  upon  as  synonymous ;  but  for 
the  future,  court  and  administration  were  to  be  considered 
as  things  totally  distinct.  By  this  operation,  two  systems  of 
administration  were  to  be  formed ;  one  which  should  be  in 
the  real  secret  and  confidence ;  the  other  merely  ostensible 
to  perform  the  ofiicial  and  executory  duties  of  government. 
The  latter  were  alone  to  be  responsible  ;  whilst  the  real  ad- 
visers, who  enjoyed  all  the  power,  were  effectually  removed 
from  all  the  danger. 

Secondly,  A  party  under  these  leaders  nvas  to  be  formed  in  fa- 
vour of  the  court  against  the  ministry :  this  party  was  to  have 
a  large  share  in  the  emoluments  of  government,  and  to  hold 
it  totally  separate  from,  and  independent  of,  ostensible  ad- 
ministration. 

The  third  point,  and  that  on  which  the  success  of  the 
whole  scheme  ultimately  depended,  was  to  bring  parliament  to 
an  acquiescence  in  this  Project.  Parliament  was  therefore  to 
be  taught  by  degrees  a  total  indifference  to  the  persons,  rank, 
influence,  abilities,  connexions,  and  character,  of  the  minis- 
ters of  the  crown.  By  means  of  a  discipline,  on  which  I 
shall  say  more  hereafter,  that  body  was  to  be  habituated  to 
the  most  opposite  interests,  and  the  most  discordant  politicks. 
All  connexions  and  dependencies  among  subjects  were  to  be 
entirely  dissolved.  As  hitherto  business  had  gone  through 
the  hands  of  leaders  of  Whigs  or  Tories,  men  of  talents  to 
conciliate  the  people,  and  engage  to  their  confidence,  now 
the  method  was  to  be  altered ;  and  the  lead  was  to  be  given 
to  men  of  no  sort  of  consideration  or  credit  in  the  country. 
This  want  of  natural  importance  was  to  be  their  very  title  to 
delegated  power.  Members  of  parliament  were  to  be  harden- 
ed into  an  insensibility  to  pride  as  well  as  to  duly.  Those 
high  and  haughty  sentiments,  which  are  the  great  support  of 
independence,  were  to  be  let  down  gradually.  Point  of 
honour  and  precedence  were  no  more  to  be  regarded  in  par- 
liamentary decorum,  than  in  a  Turkish  army.  It  was  to  be 
avowed  as  a  constitutional  maxim,  that  the  king  might  ap- 
point one  of  his   footmen,  or  one  of  your  footmen,  for  min- 

VOL.   I.  Z   z 


862  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

ister  •,  and  that  he  ought  to  be,  and  that  he  would  be,  as  well 
followed  as  the  first  name  for  rank  or  wisdom  in  the  nation. 
Thus  parliament  was  to  look  on,  as  if  perfectly  unconcerned, 
while  a  cabal  of  the  closet  and  backstairs  was  substituted  in 
the  place  of  a  national  administration. 

With  such  a  degree  of  acquiescence,  any  measure  of  any 
court  might  well  be  deemed  thoroughly  secure.  The  capital 
objects,  and  by  much  the  most  flattering  characteristicks  of 
arbitrary  power,  v.  juld  be  obtained.  Every  thing  would  be 
drawn  from  its  holdings  in  the  country  to  the  personal  favour 
and  inclination  of  the  prince.  This  favour  would  be  the 
sole  introduction  to  power,  and  the  only  tenure  by  which  it 
was  to  be  held :  so  that  no  person  looking  towards  another, 
and  all  looking  towards  the  court,  it  was  impossible  but  that 
the  motive  which  solely  influenced  every  man's  iiopes  must, 
come  in  time  to  govern  every  man's  conduct ;  till  at  last  the 
servility  became  universal,  in  spite  of  the  dead  letter  of  any 
laws  or  institutions  whatsoever. 

Kow  it  should  happen  that  any  man  could  be  tempted  to 
venture  upon  such  a  project  of  government,  may  at  first  view 
appear  surprising.  But  the  fact  is,  that  opportunities  very 
inviting  to  such  an  attempt  have  offered  j  and  the  scheme 
itself  was  not  destitute  of  some  arguments  not  wholly  un- 
plausible  to  recommend  it.  These  opportunities  and  these 
arguments,  the  use  that  has  been  made  of  both,  the  plan  for 
carrying  this  new  scheme  of  government  into  execution,  and 
the  effects  which  it  has  produced,  are  in  my  opinion  worthy 
of  our  serious  consideration. 

His  majesty  came  to  the  throne  of  these  kingdoms  with 
more  advantages  than  any  of  his  predecessors  since  the  revo- 
lution. Fourth  in  descent,  and  third  in  succession  of  his 
royal  family,  even  the  zealots  of  hereditary  right,  in  him, 
saw  something  to  flatter  their  favourite  prejudices ;  and  to 
justify  a  transfer  of  their  attachments,  without  a  change  in 
their  principles.  The  person  and  cause  of  the  Pretender 
were  become  contemptible ;  his  title  disowned  throughout 
Europe,  his  party  disbanded  in  England.  His  majesty  came 
indeed  to  the  inheritance  of  a  mighty  war;  but,  victorious 
in  every  part  of  the  globe,  peace  was  always  in  his  power,. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  36$ 

not  to  negotiate,  but  to  dictate.  No  foreign  habitudes  or  at- 
tachments withdrew  him  from  the  cultivation  of  his  power  at 
home.  His  revenue  for  the  civil  establishment,  fixed  (as  it 
was  then  thought)  at  a  large,  but  definite  sum,  was  ample, 
without  being  invidious.  His  influence,  by  additions  from 
conquest,  by  an  augmentation  of  debt,  by  an  increase  of  mil- 
itary and  naval  establishment,  much  strengthened  and  ex- 
tended. And  coming  to  the  throne  in  the  prime  and  full 
vigour  of  youth,  as  from  affection  there  was  a  strong  dislike, 
so  from  dread  there  seemed  to  be  a  general  averseness,  from 
giving  any  thing  like  offence  to  a  monarch,  against  whose  re- 
sentment opposition  could  not  look  for  a  refuge  in  any  sort 
of  reversionary  hope. 

These  singular  advantages  inspired  his  majesty  only  with 
a  more  ardent  desire  to  preserve  unimpaired  the  spirit  of 
that  national  freedom,  to  which  he  owed  a  situation  so  full 
of  glory.  But  to  others  it  suggested  sentiments  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent nature.  They  thought  they  now  beheld  an  oppor- 
tunity (by  a  certain  sort  of  statesmen  never  long  undiscovci-- 
ed  or  unemployed)  of  drawing  to  themselves,  by  the  aggran- 
dizement of  a  court  faction,  a  degree  of  power  which  they 
could  never  hope  to  derive  from  natural  influence  or  from 
honourable  service  ;  and  which  it  was  impossible  they  could 
hold  with  the  least  security,  whilst  the  system  of  administra- 
tion rested  upon  its  former  bottom.  In  order  to  facilitate 
the  execution  of  their  design,  it  was  necessary  to  make  many 
alterations  in  political  arrangement,  and  a  signal  change  in 
the  opinions,  habits,  and  connexions  of  the  greatest  part  of 
those  who  at  that  time  acted  in  publick. 

In  the  first  place,  they  proceeded  gradually,  but  not  slowly, 
to  destroy  every  thing  of  strength  which  did  not  derive  its 
principal  nourishment  from  the  immediate  pleasure  of  the 
court.  The  greatest  weight  of  popular  opinion  and  party 
connexion  were  then  with  the  duke  of  Newcastle  and  Mr. 
Pitt.  Neither  of  these  held  their  importance  by  the  new 
tenure  of  the  court ;  they  were  not  therefore  thought  to  be 
so  proper  as  others  for  the  services  which  were  required  by 
that  tenure.  It  happened  very  favourably  for  the  new  sys- 
tem, that  under  a  forced  coalition  there  rankled  an  incurable 


364-  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

alienation  and  disgust  between  the  parties  which  composed 
the  administration.  Mr.  Pitt  was  first  attacked.  Not  satis- 
fied with  removing  him  from  power,  they  endeavoured  by 
various  artifices  to  ruin  his  character.  The  other  party  seem- 
ed rather  pleased  to  get  rid  of  so  oppressive  a  support ;  not 
perceiving,  that  their  own  fall  was  prepared  by  his,  and  in- 
volved in  it.  Many  other  reasons  prevented  them  from 
daring  to  look  their  true  situation  in  the  face.  To  the  great 
Whig  families  it  was  extremely  disagreeable,  and  seemed  al- 
most unnatural  to  oppose  the  administration  of  a  prince  of 
the  house  of  Brunswick.  Day  after  day  they  hesitated,  and 
doubted,  and  lingered,  expecting  that  other  counsels  would 
take  place ;  and  were  slow  to  be  persuaded,  that  all  which 
had  been  done  by  the  cabal,  was  the  effect  not  of  humour, 
but  of  system.  It  was  more  strongly  and  evidently  the  interest 
of  the  new  court  faction,  to  get  rid  of  the  great  Whig  con- 
nexions, than  to  destroy  Mr.  Pitt.  The  power  of  that  gentle- 
man was  vast  indeed  and  merited ;  but  it  was  in  a  great  de- 
gree personal,  and  therefore  transient.  Theirs  was  rooted  in 
the  country.  For,  with  a  good  deal  less  of  popularity,  they 
possessed  a  far  more  natural  and  fixed  influence.  Long  pos- 
session of  government  j  vast  property ;  obligations  of  favours 
given  and  received ;  connexion  of  office ;  ties  of  blood,  of 
alliance,  of  friendship  (things  at  that  time  supposed  of  some 
force) ;  the  name  of  Whig,  dear  to  the  majority  of  the  peo- 
ple ;  the  zeal  early  begun  and  steadily  continued  to  the  royal 
family:  all  these  together  formed  a  body  of  power  in  the 
nation,  which  was  criminal  and  devoted.  The  great  ruling 
principle  of  the  cabal,  and  that  which  animated  and  harmo- 
nized all  their  proceedings,  how  various  soever  they  may 
have  been,  was  to  signify  to  the  world,  that  the  court  would 
proceed  upon  its  own  proper  forces  only ;  and  that  the  pre- 
tence of  bringing  any  other  into  its  service  was  an  affront  to 
it,  and  not  a  support.  Therefore  when  the  chiefs  were  re- 
moved, in  order  to  go  to  the  root,  the  whole  party  was  put 
under  a  proscription,  so  general  and  severe  as  to  take  their 
hard-earned  bread  from  the  lowest  officers,  in  a  manner 
•which  had  never  been  known  before,  even  in  general  revo- 
lutions.    But  it  was  thought  necessary  effectually  to  destroy 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  365 

all  dependencies  but  one  ;  and  to  shew  an  example  of  the 
firmness  and  rigour  with  which  the  new  system  was  to  be 
supported. 

Thus  for  the  time  were  pulled  down,  in  the  persons  of  the 
Whig  leaders  and  of  Mr.  Pitt  (in  spite  of  the  services  of  the 
one  at  the  accession  of  the  royal  family,  and  the  recent  ser- 
vices of  the  other  in  the  war)  the  t^vo  only  securities  for  the  ini' 
portatjce  of  the  people  ;  ponver  arising  from  popularity  ;  and  power 
arising  from  connexion.  Here  and  there  indeed  a  few  individ- 
uals were  left  standing  who  gave  security  for  their  total  es- 
trangement from  the  odious  principles  of  party  connexion  and 
personal  attachment ;  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  most  of 
them  have  religiously  kept  their  faith.  Such  a  change  could 
not  however  be  made  without  a  mighty  shock  to  government. 
To  reconcile  the  minds  of  the  people  to  all  these  move- 
ments, principles  correspondent  to  them  had  been  preached 
up  with  great  zeal.  Every  one  must  remember  that  the  cabal 
set  out  with  the  most  astonishing  prudery,  both  moral  and  po- 
litical. Those  who  in  a  few  months  after  soused  over  head 
and  ears  into  the  deepest  and  dirtiest  pits  of  corruption,  cried 
out  violently  against  the  indirect  practices  in  the  electing  and 
managing  of  parliaments,  which  had  formerly  prevalied. 
This  marvellous  abhorrence  which  the  court  had  suddenly  ta- 
ken to  all  influence,  was  not  only  circulated  in  conversation 
through  the  kingdom,  but  pompously  announced  to  the  pub- 
lick,  with  many  other  extraordinary  things  in  a  pamphlet* 
which  had  all  the  appearance  of  a  manifesto  preparatory  to 
some  considerable  enterprise.  Throughout  it  was  a  satire, 
though  in  terms  managed  and  decent  enough,  on  the  politicks 
of  the  former  reign.  It  was  indeed  written  with  no  small  art 
and  address. 

In  this  piece  appeared  the  first  dawning  of  the  new  system  •, 
there  first  appeared  the  idea  (then  only  in  speculation)  oi  sep- 
arating the  court  from  the  administration  ,-  of  carrying  every 
thing  from  national  connexion  to  personal  regards  ;  and  of 
forming  a  regular  party  for  that  purpose,  under  the  name  of 
king^s  men. 

*  Sentiments  of  an  honest  Man. 


566  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

To  recommend  this  system  to  the  people,  a  perspective  view 
of  the  court  gorgeously  painted,  and  linely  illuminated  from 
within,  was  exhibited  to  the  gaping  multitude.  Party  was  to 
be  totally  done  away,  with  ail  its  evil  works.  Corruption  was 
to  be  cast  down  from  court,  as  ^te  was  from  heaven.  Power 
was  thenceforward  to  be  the  chosen  residence  of  publick  spirit  j 
and  no  one  was  to  be  supposed  under  any  sinister  influence, 
except  those  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  in  disgrace  at  court, 
which  was  to  stand  in  lieu  of  all  vices  and  all  corruptions. 
A  scheme  of  perfection  to  be  realized  in  a  monarchy  far  be- 
yond the  visionary  republick  of  Plato.  The  whole  scenery 
was  exactly  disposed  to  captivate  those  good  souls,  whose  cred- 
ulous morality  is  so  invaluable  a  treasure  to  crafty  politicians. 
Indeed  there  was  wherewithal  to  charm  every  body,  except 
those  few  who  are  not  much  pleased  with  professions  of  super- 
natural virtue,  who  know  of  what  stuff  such  professions  are 
made,  for  what  purposes  they  are  designed,  and  in  what 
they  are  sure  constantly  to  end.  Many  innocent  gentlemen, 
who  had  been  talking  prose  all  their  lives  without  knowing 
any  thing  of  the  matter,  began  at  last  to  open  their  eyes  upon 
their  own  merits,  and  to  attribute  their  not  having  been  lords 
of  the  treasury  and  lords  of  trade  many  years  before,  merely 
to  the  prevalence  of  party,  and  to  the  ministerial  power,  which 
had  frustrated  the  good  intentions  of  the  court  in  favour  of 
their  abilities.  Now  was  the  time  to  unlock  the  sealed  fountain 
of  royal  bounty,  which  had  been  infamously  monopolized  and 
huckstered,  and  to  let  it  flow  at  large  upon  the  who' e  people. 
The  time  was  come,  to  restore  royalty  to  its  original  splen- 
dour. Mettre  le  Roy  hors  depagCy  became  a  sort  of  watch-word. 
And  it  was  constantly  in  the  mouths  of  all  the  runners  of  the 
court,  that  nothing  could  preserve  the  balance  of  the  constitu- 
tion from  being  overturned  by  the  rabble,  or  by  a  faction  of 
the  nobility,  but  to  free  the  sovereign  eff^ectually  from  that 
ministerial  tyranny  under  which  the  royal  dignity  had  been 
oppressed  in  the  person  of  his  majesty's  grandfather. 

These  were  some  of  the  many  artifices  used  to  reconcile 
the  people  to  the  great  change  which  was  made  in  the  per- 
sons who  composed  the  ministry,  and  the  still  greater  which 
was  made  and  avowed  in  its  constitution.     As  to  individuals, 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  367 

Other  methods  were  employed  with  them  ;  in  order  so  thor- 
oughly to  disunite  every  party,  and  even  every  family,  that 
no  concert,  order  i  or  effe.t,  might  appear  in  any  future  opposition. 
And  in  this  manner  an  administration  without  connexion 
with  the  people,  or  with  one  another,  was  first  put  in  posses- 
sion of  government.  What  good  consequences  followed 
from  it,  we  have  all  seen  j  whether  with  regard  to  virtue, 
publick  or  private  ;  to  the  ease  and  happiness  of  the  sover- 
eign j  or  to  the  real  strength  of  government.  But  as  so 
much  stress  was  then  laid  on  the  necessity  of  this  new  project, 
it  will  not  be  amiss  to  take  a  view  of  the  effects  of  this  roy- 
al servitude  and  vile  durance,  which  was  so  deplored  in  the 
reiga  of  the  late  monarch,  and  was  so  carefully  to  be  avoided 
in  the  rei^n  of  his  successor.     The  effects  were  these. 

In  times  full  of  doubt  and  danger  to  his  person  and  fami- 
ly, George  the  Second  maintained  the  dignity  of  his  crown 
connected  with  the  liberty  of  his  people,  not  only  unimpaired, 
but  improved,  for  the  space  of  thirty-three  years.  He  over- 
came a  dangerous  rebellion,  abetted  by  foreign  force,  and 
raging  in  the  heart  of  his  kingdoms  j  and  thereby  destroyed 
the  seeds  of  all  future  rebellion  that  could  arise  upon  the 
same  principle.  He  carried  the  glory,  the  power,  the  com- 
merce of  England,  to  an  height  unknown  even  to  this  re- 
nowned nation  in  the  times  of  its  greatest  prosperity  :  and  he 
left  his  succession  resting  on  the  true  and  only  true  founda- 
tions of  all  national  and  all  regal  greatness  ;  affection  at  home, 
reputation  abroad,  trust  in  allies,  terrour  in  rival  nations. 
The  most  ardent  lover  of  his  country  cannot  wish  for  Great 
Britain  a  happier  fate  than  to  continue  as  she  was  then  left. 
A  people  emulous  as  we  are  in  affectioa  to  our  present  sov- 
ereign, know  not  how  to  form  a  prayer  to  heaven  for  a  great- 
er blessing  upon  his  virtues,  or  a  higher  state  of  felicity  and 
glory,  than  that  he  should  live,  and  should  reign,  and,  when 
Providence  ordains  it,  should  die,  exactly  like  his  illustrious 
predecessor. 

A  great  prince  may  be  obliged  (though  such  a  thing  can- 
not happen  very  often)  to  sacrifice  his  private  inclination  to 
his  publick  interest.  A  wise  prince  will  not  think  that  such 
a  restraint  implies  a  condition  of  servility  ;  and  truly,  if  such 


3(jh  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

was  the  condition  of  the  last  reign,  and  the  effects  were  also 
such  as  we  have  described,  we  ought,  no  less  for  the  sake  of 
the  sovereign  whom  we  love,  than  for  our  own,  to  hear  argu- 
ments convincing  indeed,  before  we  depart  from  the  max- 
ims of  that  reign,  or  fly  in  the  face  of  this  great  body  of  strong 
and  recent  experience.  . 

One  of  the  principal  topicks  which  was  then,  and  has  been 
since,  much  employed  by  that  political  *  school,  is  an  af- 
fected terrour  of  the  growth  of  an  aristocratick  power,  preju- 
dicial to  the  rights  of  the  crown,  and  the  balance  of  the  con- 
stitution. Any  new  powers  exercised  in  the  house  of  lords, 
or  in  the  house  of  commons,  or  by  the  crown,  ought  certainly 
to  excite  the  vigilant  and  anxious  jealousy  of  a  free  people. 
Even  a  new  and  unprecedented  course  of  action  in  the  whole 
legislature,  without  great  and  evident  reason,  may  be  a  subject 
of  just  uneasiness.  I  will  not  affirm,  that  there  may  not  have 
lately  appeared  in  the  house  of  lords  a  disposition  to  some 
attempts  derogatory  to  the  legal  rights  of  the  subject.  If  any 
such  have  really  appeared,  they  have  arisen,  not  from  a  power 
properly  aristocratick,  but  from  the  same  influence  which  is 
charged  with  having  excited  attempts  of  a  similar  nature  in 
the  house  of  commons  ;  which  house,  if  it  should  have  been 
betrayed  into  an  unfortunate  quarrel  with  its  constituents,  and 
involved  in  a  charge  of  the  very  same  nature,  could  have  nei- 
ther power  nor  inclination  to  repel  such  attempts  in  others. 
Those  attempts  in  the  house  of  lords  can  no  more  be  called 
aristocratick  proceedings,  than  the  proceedings  with  regard  to 
the  county  of  Middlesex  in  the  house  of  commons  can  with 
any  sense  be  called  democratical. 

It  is  true,  that  the  peers  have  a  great  influence  in  the  king- 
dom, and  in  every  part  of  the  publick  concerns.  While 
they  are  men  of  property,  it  is  impossible  to  prevent  it,  ex- 
cept by  such  means  as  must  prevent  all  property  from  its  nat- 
ural operation  :  an  event  not  easily  to  be  compassed,  while 
property  is  power  j  nor  by  any  means  to  be  wished,  while  the 
least  notion  exists  of  the  method  by  which  the  spirit  of  liber- 
ty acts,  and  of  the  means  by  which  it  is  preserved.     If  any 

*  See  the  political  writings  of  the  late  Dr.  Brown,  and  many  others. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  369 

particular  peers,  by  their  uniform,  upright,  constitutional  con- 
duct, by  their  publick  and.  their  private  virtues,  have  acquired 
an  influence  in  the  country  ;  the  people,  on  whose  favour 
that  influence  depends,  and  from  whom  it  arose,  will  never 
be  duped  into  an  opinion,  that  such  greatness  in  a  peer  is  the 
despotism  of  an  aristocracy,  when  they  know  and  feel  it  to  be 
the  eff^ect  and  pledge  of  their  own  importance. 

I  am  no  friend  to  aristocracy,  in  the  sense  at  least  in  which 
that  word  is  usually  understood.  If  it  were  not  a  bad  habit 
to  moot  cases  on  the  supposed  ruin  of  the  constitution,  I 
should  be  free  to  declare,  that  if  it  must  perish,  I  would  rath- 
er by  far  see  it  resolved  into  any  other  form,  than  lost  in  that 
austere  and  insolent  domination.  But,  whatever  my  dislikes 
may  be,  my  fears  are  not  upon  that  quarter.  The  question, 
on  the  influence  of  a  court,  and  of  a  peerage,  is  not,  which 
of  the  two  dangers  is  the  most  eligible,  but  which  is  the 
most  imminent.  He  Is  but  a  poor  observer,  who  has  not 
seen,  that  the  generality  of  peers,  far  from  supporting  them- 
selves in  a  state  of  independent  greatness,  are  but  too  apt  to 
fall  into  an  oblivion  of  their  proper  dignity,  and  to  run  head- 
long into  an  abject  servitude.  Would  to  God  it  were  true, 
that  the  fault  of  our  peers  were  too  much  spirit  !  It  is  worthy 
of  some  observation,  that  these  gentlemen,  so  jealous  of  aris- 
tocracy, make  no  complaints  of  the  power  of  those  peers 
(neither  few  nor  Inconsiderable)  who  are  always  in  the  train 
of  a  court,  and  whose  whole  weight  must  be  considered  as  a 
portion  of  the  settled  influence  of  the  crown.  This  is  all 
safe  and  right  ;  but  if  some  peers  (I  am  very  sorry  they  are 
not  as  many  as  they  ought  to  be)  set  themselves,  in  the  great 
concern  of  peers  and  commons,  against  a  back-stairs  influence 
and  clandestine  government,  then  the  alarm  begins  ;  then  the 
constitution  is  in  danger  of  being  forced  into  an  aristocracy. 

I  rest  a  little  the  longer  on  this  court  topick,  because  it  was 
much  insisted  upon  at  the  time  of  the  great  change,  and  has 
been  since  frequently  revived  by  many  of  the  agents  of  that 
party  :  for,  whilst  they  are  terrifying  the  great  and  opulent 
with  the  horrours  of  mob-government,  they  are  by  other 
managers  attempting  (though  hitherto  with  little  success)  to 
alarm  the   people  with  a  phantom  of  tyranny  in  the  nobles. 

Vol.  I.  A  A  a 


« 


370  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 


All  this  Is  done  upon  their  favourite  principle  of  disunion,  of 
sowing  jealousies  amongst  the  different  orders  of  the  state,  and 
of  disjointing  the  natural  strength  of  the  kingdom  ;  that  it 
may  be  rendered  incapable  of  resisting  the  sinister  designs  of 
wicked  men,  who  have  engrossed  the  royal  power. 

Thus  much  of  the  topicks  chosen  by  the  courtiers  to  recom- 
mend their  system  ;  it  will  be  necessary  to  open  a  little  more 
at  large  the  nature  of  that  party  which  was  formed  for  its 
support.  Without  this,  the  whole  would  have  been  no  bet- 
ter than  a  visionary  amusement,  like  the  scheme  of  Harring- 
ton's political  club,  and  not  a  business  in  which  the  nation 
had  a  real  concern.  As  a  powerful  party,  and  a  party  construc- 
ted on  a  new  principle,  it  is  a  very  inviting  object  of  curiosity. 

It  must  be  remembered,  that  since  the  revolution,  until  the 
period  we  are  speaking  of,  the  influence  of  the  crown  had 
been  always  employed  in  supporting  the  ministers  of  state, 
and  in  carrying  on  the  publick  business  according  to  their 
opinions.  But  the  party  now  in  question  is  formed  upon  a 
very  different  idea.  It  is  to  intercept  the  favour,  protection 
and  confidence  of  the  crown  in  the  passage  to  its  ministers  ; 
it  is  to  come  between  them  and  their  importance  in  parlia- 
ment ;  it  is  to  separate  them  from  all  their  natural  and  ac- 
quired dependencies  ;  it  is  intended  as  the  controul,  not  the 
support,  of  administration.  The  machinery  of  this  system  is 
perplexed  in  its  movements,  and  false  in  its  principle.  It  is 
formed  on  a  supposition  that  the  king  is  something  external 
to  his  government  ;  and  that  he  may  be  honoured  and  ag- 
grandized, even  by  its  debility  and  disgrace.  The  plan  pro- 
ceeds expressly  on  the  idea  of  enfeebling  the  regular  execu- 
tory power.  It  proceeds  on  the  idea  of  weakening  the  state 
in  order  to  strengthen  the  court.  The  scheme  depending 
entirely  on  distrust,  on  disconnexion,  on  mutability  by  prin- 
ciple, on  systematick  weakness  in  every  particular  mem- 
ber ;  it  is  impossible  that  the  total  result  should  be  substantial 
strength  of  any  kind. 

As  a  foundation  of  their  scheme,  the  cabal  have  establish- 
ed a  sort  of  rota  in  the  court.  All  sorts  of  p*arties,  by  this 
means,  have  been  brought  into  administration,  from  whence 
few  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  escape  without  disgrace  ; 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  371 

none  at  all  without  considerable  losses.     In  the  beginning  of  *,, 

each  arrangement  no  professions  of  confidence  and  support 
are  wanting,  to  induce  the  leading  men  to  engage.  But 
while  the  ministers  of  the  day  appear  in  all  the  pomp  and 
pride  of  power,  while  they  have  all  their  canvas  spread  out 
to  the  vvind,  and  every  sail  filled  with  the  fair  and  prosperous 
gale  of  royal  favour,  in  a  short  time  they  find,  they  know  not 
how,  a  current,  which  sets  directly  against  them ;  which 
prevents  all  progress  ;  and  even  drives  them  backwards. 
They  grow  ashamed  and  mortified  in  a  situation,  which,  by 
its  vicinity  to  power,  only  serves  to  remind  them  the  more 
strongly  of  their  insignificance.  They  are  obliged  either  to 
execute  the  orders  of  their  inferiours,  or  to  see  them- 
selves opposed  by  the  natural  instruments  of  their  office. 
With  the  loss  of  their  dignity  they  lose  their  temper.  In 
their  turn  they  grow  troublesome  to  that  cabal  which,  wheth- 
er it  supports  or  opposes,  equally  disgraces  and  equally  be- 
trays them.  It  is  soon  found  necessary  to  get  rid  of  the 
heads  of  administration  ;  but  it  is  of  the  heads  only.  As 
there  always  are  many  rotten  members  belonging  to  the  best 
connexions,  it  is  not  hard  to  persuade  several  to  continue  in 
office  without  their  leaders.  By  this  means  the  party  goes 
out  much  thinner  than  it  came  in  j  and  is  only  reduced  in 
strength  by  its  temporary  possession  of  power.  Besides,  if 
by  accident,  or  in  course  of  changes,  that  power  should  be 
recovered,  the  junto  have  thrown  up  i  retrenchment  of 
these  carcases,  which  may  serve  to  cover  themselves  in  a  day 
of  danger.  They  conclude,  not  unwisely,  that  such  rotten 
members  will  become  the  first  objects  of  disgust  and  resent- 
ment to  their  antient  connexions. 

They  contrive  to  form  in  the  outward  administration  two 
parties  at  the  least  ;  which,  whilst  they  are  tearing  one  anoth- 
er to  pieces,  are  both  competitors  for  the  favour  and  protec- 
tion of  the  cabal  ;  and,  by  their  emulation,  contribute  to 
throw  every  thing  more  and  more  into  the  hands  of  the  in- 
teriour  managers. 

A  minister  of  state  will  sometimes  keep  himself  totally  es- 
tranged from  all  his  colleagues  ;  will  differ  from  them  in 
their  councils,  will  privately  traverse,  and  publickly  oppose. 


372  -'330UGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

their  measures.  He  will,  however,  continue  in  his  employ- 
ment. Instead  of  suffering  any  mark  of  displeasure,  he  will 
be  distinguished  by  an  unbounded  profusion  of  court  rewards 
and  caresses  ;  because  he  does  what  is  expected,  and  all  that 
is  expected,  from  men  in  office.  He  helps  to  keep  some 
form  of  administration  in  being,  and  keeps  it  at  the  same 
time  as  weak  and  divided  as  possible. 

However,  we  must  take  care  not  to  be  mistaken,  or  to  im- 
agine that  such  persons  have  any  weight  in  their  opposition. 
When,  by  them,  administration  is  convinced  of  its  insignifi- 
cancy, they  are  soon  to  be  convinced  of  their  own.  They 
never  are  suffered  to  succeed  in  their  opposition.  They  and 
the  world  are  to  be  satisfied,  that,  neither  office,  nor  author- 
ity, nor  property,  nor  ability,  eloquence,  counsel,  skill,  or 
union,  are  of  the  least  importance ;  but  that  the  mere  influence 
of  the  court,  naked  of  all  support,  and  destitute  of  all  man- 
agement, is  abundantly  sufficient  for  all  its  own  purposes. 

When  any  adverse  connexion  is  to  be  destroyed,  the  ca- 
bal seldom  appear  in  the  work  themselves.  They  find  out 
some  person  of  whom  the  party  entertains  an  high  opinion. 
Such  a  person  they  endeavour  to  delude  with  various  pre- 
tences. They  teach  him  first  to  distrust,  and  then  to  quarrel 
with  his  friends  ;  among  whom,  by  the  same  arts,  they  ex- 
cite a  similar  diffidence  of  him  ;  so  that  in  this  mutual  fear 
and  distrust,  he  may  suffer  himself  to  be  employed  as  the  in- 
strument in  the  change  which  is  brought  about.  Afterwards 
they  are  sure  to  destroy  him  in  his  turn,  by  setting  up  in  his 
place  some  person  in  whom  he  had  himself  reposed  the  great- 
est confidence,  and  who  serves  to  carry  off  a  considerable 
part  of  his  adherents. 

When  such  a  person  has  broke  in  this  manner  with  his 
connexions,  he  is  soon  compelled  to  commit  some  flagrant 
act  of  iniquitous  personal  hostility  against  some  of  them 
(such  as  an  attempt  to  strip  a  particular  friend  of  his  family 
estate),  by  which  the  cabal  hope  to  render  the  parties  utter- 
ly irreconcileable.  In  truth,  they  have  so  contrived  matters, 
that  people  have  a  greater  hatred  to  the  subordinate  instru- 
ments than  to  the  principal  movers. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  3*73 

As  in  destroying  their  enemies  they  make  use  of  instru- 
ments not  immediately  belonging  to  their  corps,  so  in  ad- 
vancing their  own  friends  they  pursue  exactly  the  same  meth- 
od. To  promote  any  of  them  to  considerable  rank  or  emol- 
ument, they  commonly  take  care  that  the  recommendation 
shall  pass  through  the  hands  of  the  ostensible  ministry  :  such 
a  recommendation  might  however  appear  to  the  world,  as 
some  proof  of  the  credit  of  ministers,  and  some  means  of  in- 
creasing their  strength.  To  prevent  this,  the  persons  so  ad- 
vanced are  directed,  in  all  companies,  industriously  to  declare, 
that  they  are  under  no  obligations  whatsoever  to  administra- 
tion ;  that  they  have  received  their  office  from  another  quar- 
ter ;   that  they  are  totally  free  and  independent. 

When  the  faction  has  any  job  of  lucre  to  obtain,  or  of  ven- 
geance to  perpetrate,  their  way  is,  to  select,  for  the  execu- 
tion, those  very  persons  to  whose  habits,  friendships,  princi- 
ples, and  declarations,  such  proceedings  are  publickly  known 
to  be  the  most  adverse  ;  at  once  to  render  the  instruments 
the  more  odious,  and  therefore  the  more  dependent,  and  to 
prevent  the  people  from  ever  reposing  a  confidence  in  any 
appearance  of  private  friendship,  or  publick  principle. 

If  the  administration  seem  now  and  then,  from  remissness, 
or  from  fear  of  making  themselves  disagreeable,  to  suffer  any 
popular  excesses  to  go  unpunished,  the  cabal  immediately  sets 
up  some  creature  of  theirs  to  raise  a  clamour  against  the 
ministers,  as  having  shamefully  betrayed  the  dignity  of  gov- 
ernment. Then  they  compel  the  ministry  to  become  adlive 
in  conferring  rewards  and  honours  on  the  persons  who  have 
been  the  instruments  of  their  disgrace  ;  and,  after  having 
first  vilified  them  with  the  higher  orders  for  suffering  the 
laws  to  sleep  over  the  licentiousness  of  the  populace,  they 
drive  them  (in  order  to  make  amends  for  their  former  inac- 
tivity) to  some  act  of  atrocious  violence,  which  renders  them 
completely  abhorred  by  the  people.  They  who  remember 
the  riots  which  attended  the  Middlesex  election  ;  the  open- 
ing of  the  present  parliament  ;  and  the  transactions  relative 
to  Saint  George's  Fields,  will  not  be  at  a  loss  for  an  applica- 
tion of  these  remarks. 


374'  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

That  this  body  may  be  enabled  to  compass  all  the  ends  of 
its  institution,  its  members  are  scarcely  ever  to  aim  at  the  high 
and  responsible  offices  of  the  state.  They  are  distributed 
with  art  and  judgment  through  all  the  secondary,  but  effi- 
cient, departments  of  office,  and  through  the  households  of 
all  the  branches  of  the  royal  family  :  so  as  on  one  hand  to 
occupy  all  the  avenues  to  the  throne  ;  and  on  the  other  to 
forward  or  frustrate  the  execution  of  any  measure,  according 
to  their  own  interests.  For  with  the  credit  and  support 
which  they  are  known  to  have,  though  for  the  greater  part 
in  places  which  are  only  a  genteel  excuse  for  salary,  they 
possess,  all  the  influence  of  the  highest  posts  j  and  they  dic- 
tate publickly  in  almost  every  thing,  even  with  a  parade  of 
superiority.  "Whenever  they  dissent  (as  it  often  happens) 
from  their  nominal  leaders,  the  trained  part  of  the  senate, 
instinctively  in  the  secret,  is  sure  to  follow  them  ;  provided 
the  leaders,  sensible  of  their  situation,  do  not  of  themselves 
recede  in  time  from  their  most  declared  opinions.  This  lat- 
ter is  generally  the  case.  It  will  not  be  conceivable  to  any 
one  who  has  not  seen  it,  what  pleasure  is  taken  by  the  cabal 
in  rendering  these  heads  of  office  thoroughly  contemptible 
and  ridiculous.  And  when  they  are  become  so,  they  have 
then  the  best  chance  for  being  well  supported. 

The  members  of  the  court  faction  are  fully  indemnified 
for  not  holding  places  on  the  slippery  heights  of  the  king- 
dom, not  only  by  the  lead  in  all  afl:airs,  but  also  by  the  per- 
fect security  in  which  they  enjoy  less  conspicuous,  but  very 
advantageous  situations.  Their  places  are  in  express  legal 
tenure,  or  in  effect,  all  of  them  for  life.  "Whilst  the  first 
and  most  respectable  persons  in  the  kingdom  are  tossed  about 
like  tennis  balls,  the  sport  of  a  blind  and  insolent  caprice,  no 
minister  dares  even  to  cast  an  oblique  glance  at  the  lowest  of 
their  body.  If  an  attempt  be  made  upon  one  of  this  corps, 
immediately  he  flies  to  sanctuary,  and  pretends  to  the  most 
inviolable  of  all  promises.  No  conveniency  of  publick  ar- 
rangement is  available  to  remove  any  one  of  them  from  the 
specifick  situation  he  holds  ;  and  the  slightest  attempt  upon 
one  of  them,  by  the  most  powerful  minister,  is  a  certain  pre- 
liminary to  his  own  destruction. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  375 

Conscious  of  their  independence,  they  bear  themselves 
with  a  lofty  air  to  the  exterior  ministers.  Like  Janissaries, 
they  derive  a  kind  of  freedom  from  the  very  condition  of 
their  servitude.  The>  may  act  just  as  they  please  ;  provid- 
ed they  are  true  to  the  great  ruling  principle  of  their  insti- 
tution. It  is,  therefore,  not  at  all  wonderful,  that  people 
should  be  so  desirous  of  adding  themselves  to  that  body,  in 
which  they  may  possess  and  reconcile  satisfactions  the  most 
alluring,  and  seemingly  the  most  contradictory  ;  enjoying  at 
once  all  the  spirited  pleasure  of  independence,  and  all  the 
gross  lucre  and  fat  emoluments  of  servitude. 

Here  is  a  sketch,  though  a  slight  one,  of  the  constitution, 
laws,  and  policy,  of  this  new  court  corporation.  The  name 
by  which  they  choose  to  distinguish  themselves,  is  that  of 
king's  metiy  or  the  king's  friends^  by  an  invidious  exclusion  of 
the  rest  of  his  Majesty's  most  loyal  and  affectionate  subjects. 
The  whole  system,  comprehending  the  exterior  and  interiour 
administrations  is  commonly  called  in  the  technical  language 
of  the  court,  double  cabinet ;  in  French  or  English,  as  you 
choose  to  pronounce  it. 

Whether  all  this  be  a  vision  of  a  distracted  brain,  or  the 
invention  of  a  malicious  heart,  or  a  real  faction  in  the  country, 
must  be  judged  by  the  appearances  which  things  have  worn 
for  eight  years  past.  Thus  far  I  am  certain,  that  there  is  not 
a  single  publick  man,  in  or  out  of  office,  who  has  not,  at  some 
time  or  other,  borne  testimony  to  the  truth  of  what  I  have 
now  related.  In  particular,  no  persons  have  been  more  strong 
in  their  assertions,  and  louder  and  more  indecent  in  their 
complaints,  than  those  who  compose  all  the  exterior  part  of 
the  present  administration ;  in  whose  time  that  faction  has 
arrived  at  such  an  height  of  power,  and  of  boldness  in  the  use 
of  it,  as  may,  in  the  end,  perhaps  bring  about  its  total  destruc- 
tion. 

It  is  true,  that  about  four  years  ago,  during  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  Marquis  of  Rockingham,  an  attempt  was  made 
to  carry  on  government  without  their  concurrence.  How- 
ever, this  was  only  a  transient  cloud  ;  they  were  hid  but 
for  a  moment ;  and  their  constellation  blazed  out  with  great- 
er  brightness,  and  a  far  more  vigorous  influence,  somp  time 


376  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

after  it  was  blown  over.  An  attempt  was  at  that  time  made 
(but  without  any  idea  of  proscription)  to  break  their  corps, 
to  discountenance  their  doctrines,  to  revive  connexions  of  a 
different  kind,  to  restore  the  principles  and  policy  of  the 
Whigs,  to  reanimate  the  cause  of  liberty  by  ministerial  coun- 
tenance ;  and  then  for  the  first  time  were  men  seen  attach- 
ed in  office  to  every  principle  they  had  maintained  in  oppo- 
sition. No  one  will  doubt,  that  such  men  were  abhored  and 
violently  opposed  by  the  court  faction,  and  that  such  a  sys- 
tem could  have  but  a  short  duration. 

It  may  appear  somewhat  affected,  that  in  so  much  discourse 
upon  this  extraordinary  party,  I  should  say  so  little  of  the  Earl 
of  Bute,  who  is  the  supposed  head  of  it.  But  this  was  nei- 
ther owing  to  affectation  nor  inadvertence.  I  have  carefully 
avoided  the  introduction  of  personal  reflections  of  any  kind. 
Much  the  greater  part  of  the  topicks  which  have  been  used 
to  blacken  this  nobleman,  are  either  unjust  or  frivolous.  At 
best,  they  have  a  tendency  to  give  the  resentment  of  this  bit- 
ter calamity  a  wrong  direction,  and  to  turn  a  publick  griev- 
ance into  a  mean,  personal,  or  a  dangerous  national  quarrel. 
Where  there  is  a  regular  scheme  of  operations  carried  on,  it 
is  the  system,  and  not  any  individual  person  who  acts  in  it, 
that  is  truly  dangerous.  This  system  has  not  arisen  solely 
from  the  ambition  of  Lord  Bute,  but  from  the  cicumstances 
which  favoured  it,  and  from  an  indifference  to  the  constitu- 
tion which  had  been  for  some  time  growmg  among  our  gen- 
try. We  should  have  been  tried  with  it,  if  the  Earl  of  Bute 
had  never  existed ;  and  it  will  want  neither  a  contriving  head 
nor  active  members,  when  the  Earl  of  Bute  exists  no  longer. 
It  is  not,  therefore,  to  rail  at  Lord  Bute,  but  firmly  to  em- 
body against  this  court  party  and  its  practices,  which  can  af- 
ford us  any  prospect  of  relief  in  our  present  condition. 

Another  motive  induces  me  to  put  the  personal  con- 
sideration of  Lord  Bute,  wholly  out  of  the  question.  He 
communicates  very  little  in  a  direct  manner  with  the  greater 
part  of  our  men  of  business.  This  has  never  been  his  cus- 
tom. It  is  enough  for  him  that  he  surrounds  them  with  his 
creatures.  Several  imagine,  therefore,  that  they  have  a  very 
good  excuse  for  doing  all  the  work  of  this  faction,  when  they 


THE  PRESENt  DISCONTENTS".  SVf 

have  no  personal  connexion  with  Lord  Bute.  But  whoever 
becomes  a  party  to  an  administration,  composed  of  insulated 
inJividuals,  wliithout  faith  plighted,  tie,  or  common  princi- 
ple ;  an  administration  constitutionally  impotent,  because  sup- 
ported by  no  party  in  the  nation ;  he  who  contributes  to  de- 
stroy the  connexions  of  men  and  their  trust  in  one  another, 
or  in  any  sort  to  throw  the  dependence  of  publick  counsels 
upon  private  will  and  favour,  possibly  may  have  nothing  td 
do  with  the  Earl  of  Bute.  It  matters  little  whether  he  be  the 
friend  or  the  enemy  of  that  particular  person.  But  let  him  be 
who  or  what  he  will,  he  abets  a  faction  that  is  driving  hard  to 
the  ruin  of  his  country.  He  is  sapping  the  foundation  of  its 
liberty,  disturbing  the  sources  of  its  domestick  tranquillity, 
Weakening  its  government  Over  its  dependencies,  degrading  it 
from  all  its  importance  in  the  system  of  Europe. 

It  is  this  unnatural  infusion  of  a  system  of  favouritism  into 
a  government  which  in  a  great  part  of  its  constitution  is  pop- 
ular, that  has  raised  the  present  ferment  in  the  nation.  The 
people,  without  entering  deeply  into  its  principles,  could 
plainly  perceive  its  effects,  in  much  violence,  in  a  great  spir- 
it of  innovation,  and  a  general  disorder  in  all  the  functions  of 
government.  I  keep  rny  eye  solely  on  this  system  ;  if  I  speak 
of  those  measures  which  have  arisen  from  it,  it  will  be  so  far 
only  as  they  illustrate  the  general  scheme.  This  is  the  foun- 
tain of  all  those  bitter  waters  of  which,  through  an  hundred 
different  conduits,  we  have  drunk  until  we  are  ready  to  burst. 
The  discretionary  power  of  the  crown  in  the  formation  of 
ministry,  abused  by  bad  or  weak  men,  has  given  rise  to  a 
system,  which,  without  directly  violating  the  letter  of  any  law, 
operates  against  the  spirit  of  the  whole  constitution. 

A  plan  of  favouritism  for  our  executory  government  is  es- 
sentially at  variance  with  the  plan  of  our  legislature.  One 
great  end  undoubtedly  of  a  mixed  government  like  ours, 
composed  of  monarchy,  and  of  controuls,  on  the  part  of  the 
higher  people  and  the  lower,  is  that  the  prince  shall  not  be 
able  to  violate  the  laws.  This  is  useful  indeed  and  funda- 
mental. But  this,  even  at  first  view,  is  no  more  than  a  neg- 
ative advantage  ;  an  armour  merely  defensive.  It  is  there- 
fore next  in  order,  and  equal  in  importance,  that  the  discreiien' 

Vol.  I.  B  E  b 


378  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 


o 


ary  powers  which  are  necessarily  vested  in  the  monarchy  whether 
for  the  execution  of  the  laws,  or  for  the  nomination  to  magistracy 
and  office  y  or  for  conducting  the  affairs  of  peace  and  war,  or  for 
ordering  the  revenue,  should  all  be  exercised  upon  publick  princi- 
ples and  national  groundjy  and  not  on  the  likings  or  prejudices,  the 
intrigues  or  policies,  of  a  court.  This,  I  said,  is  equal  in  im- 
portance to  the  securing  a  government  according  to  law. 
The  law's  reach  but  a  very  Httle  way.  Constitute  govern- 
ment how  you  please,  infinitely  the  greater  part  of  it  must 
depend  upon  the  exercise  of  the  powers  which  are  left  at  large 
to  the  prudence  and  uprightness  of  ministers  of  state.  Even 
all  the  use  and  potency  of  the  laws  depends  upon  them. 
Without  them,  your  commonwealth  is  no  better  than  a 
scheme  upon  paper  ;  and  not  a  living,  acting,  effective  con- 
stitution. It  is  possible,  that  through  negligence,  or  igno- 
rance, or  design  artfully  conducted,  ministers  may  suffer  one 
part  of  government  to  languish,  another  to  be  perverted  from 
its  purposes,  and  every  valuable  interest  of  the  country  to 
fall  into  ruin  and  decay,  without  possibility  of  fixing  any  single 
act  on  which  a  criminal  prosecution  can  be  justly  grounded. 
The  due  arrangement  of  men  in  the  active  part  of  the  state, 
far  from  being  foreign  to  the  purposes  of  a  wise  government, 
ought  to  be  among  its  very  first  and  dearest  objects.  When, 
therefore,  the  abettors  of  the  new  system  tell  us,  that  be- 
tween them  and  their  opposers  there  is  nothing  but  a  strug- 
gle for  power,  and  that  therefore  we  are  no  ways  concerned 
in  it ;  we  must  tell  those  who  have  the  impudence  to  insult 
us  in  this  manner,  that  of  all  things  we  ought  to  be  the  most 
concerned,  who  and  what  sort  of  men  they  are,  that  hold  the 
trust  of  every  thing  that  is  dear  to  us.  Nothing  can  render 
this  a  point  of  indifference  to  the  nation,  but  what  must 
either  render  us  totally  desperate,  or  sooth  us  into  the  secu- 
rity of  ideots.  We  must  soften  into  a  credulity  below  the 
milkiness  of  infancy,  to  think  all  men  virtuous.  We  must 
be  tainted  with  a  malignity  truly  diabolical,  to  believe  all 
the  world  to  be  equally  wicked  and  corrupt.  Men  are  in 
publick  life  as  in  private,  some  good,  some  evil.  The  eleva- 
tion of  the  one,  and  the  depression  of  the  other,  are  the  first 
objects  of  all   true  policy.     But  that    form   of  government, 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  SY9 

which,  neither  in  its  direct  institutions,  nor  in  their  immedi- 
ate tendency,  has  contrived  to  throw  its  affairs  into  the  most 
trust-worthy  hands,  but  has  left  its  whole  executory  system  to 
be  disposed  of  agreeably  to  the  uncontrouled  pleasure  of  any 
one  man,  however  excellent  or  virtuous,  is  a  plan  of  polity 
defective  not  only  in  that  member,  but  consequentially  erro- 
neous in  every  part  of  it. 

In  arbitrary  governments,  the  constitution  of  the  ministry 
follows  the  constitution  of  the  legislature.  Both  the  law  and 
the  magistrate  are  the  creatures  of  will.  It  must  be  so. 
Nothing,  indeed,  will  appear  more  certain,  on  any  tolerable 
consideration  of  this  matter,  than  that  every  sort  of  government 
ought  to  have  its  administration  correspondent  to  its  legislature. 
If  it  should  be  otherwise,  things  must  fall  into  an  hideous 
disorder.  The  people  of  a  free  commonwealth,  who  have 
taken  such  care  that  their  laws  should  be  the  result  of  gen- 
eral consent,  cannot  be  so  senseless  as  to  suffer  their  executo- 
ry system  to  be  composed  of  persons  on  whom  they  have  no 
dependence,  and  whom  no  proofs  of  the  publick  love  and 
confidence  have  recommended  to  those  powers,  upon  the  use 
of  which  the  very  being  of  the  state  depends. 

The  popular  election  of  magistrates,  and  popular  disposi- 
tion of  rewards  and  honours,  is  one  of  the  first  advantages  of 
a  free  state.  Without  it,  or  something  equivalent  to  it,  per- 
haps the  people  cannot  long  enjoy  the  substance  of  freedom  ; 
certainly  none  of  the  vivifying  energy  of  good  government. 
The  frame  of  our  commonwealth  did  not  admit  of  such  an 
actual  election :  but  it  provided  as  well,  and  (while  the  spirit 
of  the  constitution  is  preserved)  better  for  all  the  effects  of  it 
than  by  the  method  of  suffrage  in  any  democratick  state  what- 
soever. It  had  always,  until  of  late,  been  held  the  first  duty 
of  Parliament,  to  refuse  to  support  Government ^  ui7til  poiver  ivas 
in  the  hands  of  persons  nvho  nuere  acceptable  to  the  people^  or  ivhile 
factions  predominated  in  the  Court  in  ivhich  the  nation  had  no  co?i~ 
fidence.  Thus  all  the  good  effects  of  popular  election  were 
supposed  to  be  secured  to  us,  without  the  mischiefs  attending 
on  perpetual  intrigue,  and  a  distinct  canvass  for  every  particu- 
lar office  throughout  the  body  of  the  people.  This  was  the 
most  npble  and  refined  part  of  our  constitution.     The  people, 


380  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

by  their  representatives  and  grandees,  were  intrusted  with  a 
deliberative  power  in  making  laws  ;  the  king  with  the  con- 
troul  of  his  negative.  The  king  was  intrusted  with  the  de- 
liberative choice  and  the  election  to  office  ;  the  people  had  the 
negative  in  a  parliamentary  refusal  to  support.  Formerly  this 
power  of  controul  was  what  kept  ministers  in  awe  of  parlia- 
ments, and  parliaments  in  reverence  with  the  people.  If  the 
tjse  of  this  power  of  controul  on  the  system  and  persons  of 
administration  is  gone,  every  thing  is  lost,  parliament  and  all. 
We  may  assure  ourselves,  that  if  parliament  will  tamely  see 
evil  men  take  possession  of  all  the  strong  holds  of  their  coun- 
try, and  allow  them  time  and  means  to  fortify  themselves,  un- 
der a  pretence  of  giving  them  a  fair  trial,  and  upon  a  hope  of 
discovering,  whether  they  will  not  be  reformed  by  power, 
and  whether  their  measures  will  not  be  better  than  their  mor- 
als 5  such  a  parliament  will  give  countenance  to  their  meas- 
ures also,  whatever  that  parliament  may  pretend,  and  what- 
ever those  measures  may  be. 

Every  good  political  institution  must  have  a  preventive  op- 
eration as  well  as  a  remedial.  It  ought  to  have  a  natural  ten- 
dency to  exclude  bad  men  from  government,  and  not  to  trust 
for  the  safety  of  the  state  to  subsequent  punishment  alone  : 
punishment,  which  has  ever  been  tardy  and  uncertain  ;  and 
which,  when  power  is  suffered  in  bad  hands,  may  chance  to 
fall  rather  on  the  injured  than  the  ci-iminal. 

Before  men  are  put  forward  into  the  great  trusts  of  the  state, 
they  ought  by  their  conduct  to  have  obtained  such  a  degree 
of  estimation  in  their  country,  as  may  be  some  sort  of  pledge 
and  security  to  the  publick,  that  they  will  not  abuse  those 
trusts.  It  is  no  mean  security  fc^r  a  proper  use  of  power, 
that  a  man  has  shewn  by  the  general  tenour  of  his'  actions, 
that  the  affection,  the  good  opinion,  the  confidence,  of  his 
fellow  citizens  have  been  among  the  principal  objects  of  his 
life  •,  and  that  he  has  owed  none  of  the  gradations  of  his  pow- 
er or  fortune  to  a  settled  contempt,  or  occasional  forfeiture  of 
their  esteem. 

That  man  who  before  he  comes  into  power  has  no  friends, 
or  who  coming  into  power  is  obliged  to  desert  his  friends, 
or  who  losing  it  has  no  friends  to  sympathize  with  him  j  he 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  ggj 

who  has  no  sway  among  any  part  of  the  landed  or  commer* 
cial  interest,  but  whose  whole  importance  has  begun  with  his 
office,  and  is  sure  to  end  with  it ;  is  a  person  who  ought  nev- 
er to  be  suffered  by  a  controuling  parliament  to  continue  in 
any  of  those  situations  which  confer  the  lead  and  direction 
of  all  our  publick  affairs ;  because  such  a  man  has  no  connexion 
^uith  the  interest  of  the  people. 

Those  knots  or  cabals  of  men  who  have  got  together,^ 
avowedly  without  any  publick  principle,  in  order  to  sell  their 
conjunct  iniquity  at  the  higher  rate,  and  are  therefore  uni- 
versally odious,  ought  never  to  be  suffered  to  domineer  in  the 
state  ;  because  they  have  no  connexion  with  the  sentiments  and 
opinions  of  the  people. 

These  are  considerations  which  in  my  opinion  enforce  the 
necessity  of  having  some  better  reason,  in  a  free  country,  and 
a  free  parliament,  for  supporting  the  ministers  of  the  crown, 
than  that  short  one.  That  the  king  has  thought  proper  to  appoint 
them.  There  is  something  very  courtly  in  this.  But  it  is 
a  principle  pregnant  with  all  sorts  of  mischief,  in  a  constitu- 
tion like  ours,  to  turn  the  views  of  active  men  from  the 
country  to  the  court.  Whatever  be  the  road  to  power,  that 
is  the  road  which  will  be  trod.  If  the  opinion  of  the  coun- 
try be  of  no  use  as  a  means  of  power  or  consideration,  the 
qualities  which  usually  procure  that  opinion  will  be  no  longer 
cultivated.  And  whether  it  will  be  right,  in  a  state  so  pop- 
ular in  its  constitution  as  ours,  to  leave  ambition  without  pop- 
ular motives,  and  to  trust  all  to  the  operation  of  pure  virtue 
in  the  minds  of  kings  and  ministers,  and  publick  men,  must 
be  submitted  to  the  judgment  and  good  sense  of  the  people 
of  England. 

Cunning  men  are  here  apt  to  break  in,  and,  without  di- 
rectly controverting  the  principle,  to  raise  objections  from  the 
difficulty  under  which  the  sovereign  labours,  to  distinguish 
the  genuine  voice  and  sentiments  of  his  people,  from  the 
clamour  of  a  faction,  by  which  it  is  so  easily  counterfeited. 
The  nation,  they  say,  is  generally  divided  into  parties,  with 
views  and  passions  utterly  irreconcileable.  If  the  king 
should  put  his  affairs  into  the  hands  of  any  one  of  them,  he 
is  sure  to  disgust  the  rest ;  if  he    select  particular  men  from 


382  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

among  them  all,  it  is  an  hazard  that  he  disgusts  them  all. 
Those  who  are  left  out,  however  divided  before,  will  soon' 
run  into  a  body  of  opposition  ;  which,  being  a  collection  of 
many  discontents  into  one  focus,  will  without  doubt  be  hot 
and  violent  enough.  Faction  will  make  its  cries  resound 
through  the  nation,  as  if  the  whole  were  in  an  uproar,  when 
by  far  the  m.ijority,  and  much  the  better  part,  will  seem  for 
a  while  as  it  were  annihilated  by  the  quiet  in  which  their  vir- 
tue and  moderation  incline  them  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of 
government.  Besides  that  the  opinion  of  the  mere  vulgar 
is  a  miserable  rule  even  with  regard  to  themselves,  on  ac- 
count of  their  violence  and  instability.  So  that  if  you  were 
to  gratify  them  in  their  humour  to-day,  that  very  gratirica- 
tion  would  be  a  ground  of  their  dissatisfaction  on  the  next. 
Now  as  all  these  rules  of  publick  opinion  are  to  be  collected 
with  great  difficulty,  and  to  be  applied  with  equal  uncertain- 
ty as  to  the  effect,  what  better  can  a  king  of  England  do,  than 
to  employ  such  men  as  he  finds  to  have  views  and  inclina- 
tions most  conformable  to  his  own  ;  who  are  least  infected 
with  pride  and  self-will,  and  who  are  least  moved  by  such 
popular  humours  as  are  perpetually  traversing  his  designs, 
and  disturbing  his  service  ;  trusting  that,  when  he  means  no 
ill  to  his  people,  he  will  be  supported  in  his  appointments, 
whether  he  chooses  to  keep  or  to  change,  as  his  private  judg- 
ment or  his  pleasure  leads  him  ?  He  will  find  a  sure  resource 
in  the  real  weight  and  influence  of  the  crown,  when  it  is  not 
suffered  to  become  an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  a  fac- 
tion. 

I  will  not  pretend  to  say  that  there  is  nothing  at  all  in  this 
mode  of  reasoning  j  because  I  will  not  assert  that  there  is  no 
difficulty  in  the  art  of  government.  Undoubtedly  the  very 
best  administration  must  encounter  a  great  deal  of  opposition  j 
and  the  very  worst  will  find  more  support  than  it  deserves. 
Sufficient  appearances  will  never  be  wanting  to  those  who 
have  a  mind  to  deceive  themselves.  It  is  a  fallacy  in  con- 
stant use  with  those  who  would  level  all  things,  and  confound 
right  with  wrong,  to  insist  upon  the  inconveniences  which 
are  attached  to  every  choice,  without  taking  into  considera- 
tion the  different  weight  and  consequence  of  those  inconve- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  S83 

Jiiences.     The  question  is  not  concerning  absolute  discontent 
or  perfe.  t  satisfaction  in  government  ;  neither  of  which  can 
be  pure  and  unmixed  at  any  time,  or  upon  any  system.     The 
controversy  is  about  that  degree  of  good-humour  in  the  peo- 
ple, which  may  possibly  be  attained,   and  ought   certainly  to 
be  looked    for.     While  some  politicians   may   be  waiting  to 
know  whether  the  sense  of  every  individual  be  against  them, 
accurately  distinguishing  the    vulgar  from   the   better  sort, 
drawing  lines  between  the  enterprises  of  a  faction  and  the  ef- 
forts of  a  people,  they   may  chance  to  see  the   government, 
whicii  they  are  so  nicely  weighing  and  dividing,  and   distin- 
guishing, tumble  to  the  ground   in  the   midst  of  their    wise 
deliberation.     Prudent  men,  when  so  great  an    object  as  the 
security  of  government,  or   even   its  peace,  is  at  stake,  will 
not  run  the  risk  of  a  decision  which  may  be  fatal  to  it.     They 
who  can  read  the  political  sky  will  see  a  hurricane  in  a  cloud 
no  big.^er  than  a  hand  at  the  very  edge  of  the  horizon,  and 
will  run  into  the  first  harbour.     No  lines  can  be  laid  dovv^n 
for  civil  or  political  wisdom.     They  are  a  matter  incapable  of 
exact  definition.     But,  though   no   man  can  draw  a  stroke 
between  the  confines  of  day  and  night,  yet  light  and   dark- 
ness are  upon  the  whole  tolerably  distinguishable.     Nor  will 
it  be  iaipossible  for  a  prince  to  find  out  such  a  mode  of  gov- 
ernment, and  such  persons  to  administer  it,  as  will  give  a  great 
degree  of  content   to  his  people  ;  without    any  curious  and 
anxious  research  for   that    abstract,    universal,  perfect   har- 
mony, which  while  he  is  seeking,  he   abandons   those  means 
of  ordinary  tranquillity  which  are  in  his  power  without  any 
research  at  all.     It  is  not  more  the  duty  than  it  is  the  interest 
of  a  prince,  to  aim  at  giving  tranquillity  to  his  government. 
But  those  who  advise  him  may  have  an  interest  in  disorder 
and  confusion.     If  the  opinion  of  the  people  is  against  them, 
they  will  naturally  wish  that  it  should  have  no  prevalence. 
Here  it  is  that  the  people  must  on  their  part  shew  themselves 
sensible  of  their  own  value.     Their  whole  importance,  in  the 
first  instance,  and  afterwards  their  whole  freedom,  is  at  stake. 
Their  freedom  cannot  long  survive  their  importance.     Here 
it  is  that  the  natural  strength  of  the  kingdom,  the  great  peers, 
the  leading  landed  gentlemen,  the  opulent  merchants  and  man- 


384.  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

ufacturers,  the  substantial  yeomanry,  must  interpose,  to  rescue 
their  prince,  themselves,  and  their  posterity. 

We  are  at  present  at  issue  upon  this  point.  We  are  in  the 
great  crisis  of  this  contention  j  and  the  part  which  men  take 
one  way  or  other,  will  serve  to  discriminate  their  characters 
and  their  principles.  Until  the  matter  is  decided,  the  country 
will  remain  in  its  present  confusion.  For  While  a  system  of 
administration  is  attempted,  entirely  repugnant  to  the  genius 
of  the  people,  and  not  conformable  to  the  plan  of  their  gov- 
ernment, every  thing  must  necessarily  be  disordered  for  a 
time,  until  this  system  destroys  the  constitution,  or  the  con- 
stitution gets  the  better  of  this  system. 

There  is,  in  my  opinion,,  a  peculiar  venom  and  malignity 
in  this  poHtical  distemper  beyond  any  that  I  have  heard  of 
read  of.  In  former  times  the  projectors  of  arbitrary  govern* 
ment  attacked  only  the  liberties  of  their  country ;  a  design 
surely  mischievous  enough  to  have  satisfied  a  mind  of  the 
most  unruly  ambition.  But  a.  system  unfavourable  to  free- 
dom may  be  so  formed,  as  considerably  to  exalt  the  gran- 
deur of  the  state  ;  and  men  may  find  in  the  pride  and  splen- 
dour of  that  prosperity  some  sort  of  consolation  for  the  loss  of 
their  solid  privileges.  Indeed  the  increase  of  the  power  of 
the  state  has  often  been  urged  by  artful  men,  as  a  pretext 
for  some  abridgment  of  the  publick  liberty.  But  the  scheme 
of  the  junto  under  consideration,  not  only  strikes  a  palsy  in- 
to every  nerve  of  our  free  constitution,  but  in  the  same  de- 
gree benumbs  and  stupifies  the  whole  executive  power  ;  ren- 
dering government  in  all  its  grand  operations  languid,  uncer- 
tain, ineflTective  ;  making  ministers  fearful  of  attempting,  and 
Incapable  of  executing,  any  useful  plan  of  domestick  arrange- 
ment, or  of  foreign  politicks.  It  tends  to  produce  neither 
the  security  of  a  free  government,  nor  the  energy  of  a  mon- 
archy that  is  absolute.  Accordingly  the  crown  has  dwindled 
away,  in  proportion  to  the  unnatural  and  turgid  growth  of 
this  excrescence  on  the  court. 

The  interiour  ministry  are  sensible,  that  War  is  a  situation 
which  sets  in  its  full  light  the  value  of  the  hearts  of  a  people  ; 
and  they  well  know,  that  the  beginning  of  the  impor- 
tance of  the  people  must  be  the  end  of  theirs.      For  tjiis 


THE  PRESEN*!^  DISCONTENTS.  385 

reason  they  discover  upon  all  occasions  the  utmost  fear 
of  every  thing,  vs^hich  by  possibility  may  lead  to  such  an 
event.  I  do  not  mean  that  they  manifest  any  of  that  pious 
fear  which  is  backv,^ard  to  commit  the  safety  of  the  country 
to  the  dubious  experiment  of  war.  Such  a  fear,  being  the 
tender  sensation  of  virtue,  excited,  as  it  is  regulated,  by  rea- 
son, frequently  shews  itself  in  a  seasonable  boldness,  which 
keeps  danger  at  a  distance,  by  seeming  to  despise  it.  Their 
fear  betrays  to  the  first  glance  of  the  eye,  its  true  cause,  and 
its  real  object.  Foreign  powers,  confident  in  the  knowledge 
of  their  character,  have  not  scrupled  to  violate  the  most  sol- 
emn treaties  -,  and,  in  defiance  of  them,  to  make  conquests  in 
the  midst  of  a  general  peace,  and  in  the  heart  of  Europe. 
Such  was  the  conquest  of  Corsica,  by  the  professed  enemies 
of  the  freedom  of  mankind,  in  defiance  of  those  who  were 
formerly  its  professed  defenders.  We  have  had  just  claims 
upon  the  same  powers  ;  rights  which  ought  to  have  been  sa-* 
cred  to  them  as  well  as  to  us,  as  they  had  their  origin  in  our 
lenity  and  generosity  towards  France  and  Spain  in  the  day 
of  their  great  humiliation.  Such  I  call  the  ransom  of  Ma- 
nilla, and  the  demand  on  France  for  the  East  India  prison- 
ers. But  these  powers  put  a  just  confidence  in  their  resource 
of  the  double  cahinet.  These  demands  (one  of  them  at  least) 
are  hastening  fast  towards  an  acquittal  by  prescription.  Ob- 
livion begins  to  spread  her  cobwebs  over  all  our  spirited  re- 
monstrances.  Some  of  the  most  valuable  branches  of  our 
trade  are  also  on  the  point  of  perishing  from  the  same  cause. 
I  do  not  mean  those  branches  which  bear  without  the  hand 
of  the  vine-dresser  ;  I  mean  those  which  the  policy  of  trea- 
ties had  formerly  secured  to  us  ;  I  mean  to  mark  and  distin- 
guish the  trade  of  Portugal,  the  loss  of  which,  and  the  power 
of  the  cabal,  have  one  and  the  same  sera. 

If,  by  any  chance,  the  ministers  who  stand  before  the  cur»> 
tain  possess  or  afi^ect  any  spirit,  it  makes  little  or  no  impres- 
sion. Foreign  courts  and  ministers,  who  w^ere  among  the 
first  to  discover  and  to  profit  by  this  invention  of  the  double 
cabinet^  attend  very  little  to  their  remonstrances.  They  know 
that  those  shadows  of  ministers  have  nothing  to  do  in  the 
ultimate  disposal  of  things.     Jealousies  and  animosities  are 

Vol.  I.  C  c  c 


'386  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

sedulously  nourished  in  the  outward  administration,  and  have 
been  even  considered  as  a  causa  sine  qua  non  in  its  constitu- 
tion :  thence  foreign  courts  have  a  certainty,  that  nothing 
can  be  done  by  common  counsel  in  this  nation.  If  one  of 
those  ministers  officially  takes  up  a  business  with  spirit,  it 
serves  only  the  better  to  signalize  the  meanness  of  the  rest,  and 
the  discord  of  them  all.  His  colleagues  in  office  are  in  haste 
to  shake  him  off,  and  to  disclaim  the  whole  of  his  proceedings, 
of  this  nature  was  that  astonishing  transaction,  in  which  Lord 
Rochford,  our  ambassador  at  Paris,  remonstrated  against  the 
attempt  upon  Corsica,  In  consequence  of  a  direct  authority 
from  Lord  Shelburne.  This  remonstrance  the  French  min- 
ister treated  with  the  contempt  that  was  natural  ;  as  he  was 
assured,  from  the  ambassador  of  his  court  to  ours,  that  these 
orders  of  Lord  Shelburne  were  not  supported  by  the  rest  of 
the  (I  had  like  to  have  said  British)  administration.  Lord 
Rochford,  a  man  of  spirit,  could  not  endure  this  situation. 
The  consequences  were,  however,  curious.  He  returns  from 
Paris,  and  comes  home  full  of  anger.  Lord  Shelburne,  who 
gave  the  orders,  is  obliged  to  give  up  the  seals.  Lord  Roch- 
ford, who  obeyed  these  orders,  receives  them.  He  goes, 
however,  into  another  department  of  the  same  office,  that  he 
might  not  be  obliged  officially  to  acquiesce  in  one  situation 
under  what  he  had  officially  remonstrated  against  in  anoth- 
er. At  Paris,  the  Duke  of  Choiseul  considered  this  office 
arrangement  as  a  compliment  to  him  :  here  It  was  spoke  of 
as  an  attention  to  the  delicacy  of  Lord  Rochford.  But 
whether  the  compliment  was  to  one  or  both,  to  this  nation  it 
was  the  same.  By  this  transaction  the  condition  of  our  court 
lay  exposed  In  all  Its  nakedness.  Our  office  correspondence 
has  lost  all  pretence  to  authenticity  ;  British  policy  is  brought 
into  derision  In  those  nations,  that  a  while  ago  trembled  at 
the  power  of  our  arms,  whilst  they  looked  up  with  confidence 
to  the  equity,  firmness,  and  candour,  which  shone  in  all  our 
negotiations.  I  represent  this  matter  exactly  in  the  light  in 
which  it  has  been  universally  received. 

Such  has  been  the  aspect  of  our  foreign  politicks,  under 
the  influence  of  a  double  cabinet.  With  such  an  arrangement 
at  court,  it  Is  impossible  It  should  have  been  otherwise.     Nor 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  '  S87 

is  it  possible  that  this  scheme  should  have  a  better  effect  upon 
the  government  of  our  dependencies,  the  first,  the  dearest, 
and  most  delicate  objects,  of  the  interiour  policy  of  this  em- 
pire. The  colonies  know,  that  administration  is  separated 
from  the  court,  divided  within  itself,  and  detested  by  the 
nation.  The  double  cabinet  has,  in  both  the  parts  of  it,  shewn 
the  most  malignant  dispositions  towards  them,  without  being 
able  to  do  them  the  smallest  mischief. 

They  are  convinced,  by  sufficient  experience,  that  no  plan, 
either  of  lenity  or  rigour,  can  be  pursued  with  uniformity 
and  perseverance.  Therefore  they  turn  their  eyes  entirely 
from  Great  Britain,  where  they  have  neither  dependence  on 
friendship,  nor  apprehension  from  enmity.  They  look  to 
themselves,  and  their  own  arrangements.  They  grow  every 
day  into  alienation  from  this  country  ;  and  whilst  they  are 
becoming  disconnected  with  our  government,  we  have  not  the 
consolation  to  find,  that  they  are  even  friendly  in  their  new 
independence.  Nothing  can  equal  the  futility,  the  weakness, 
the  rashness,  the  timidity,  the  perpetual  contradiction,  in 
the  management  of  our  affairs  in  that  part  of  the  world.  A 
volume  might  be  written  on  this  melancholy  subject  ;  but  it 
were  better  to  leave  it  entirely  to  the  reflections  of  the  reader 
himself  than  not  to  treat  it  in  the  extent  it  deserves. 

In  what  manner  our  domestick  economy  is  affected  by 
this  system,  it  is  needless  to  explain.  It  is  the  perpetual  sub- 
ject of  their  own  complaints. 

The  court  party  resolve  the  whole  into  faction.  Having 
said  something  before  upon  this  subject,  I  shall  only  observe 
here,  that  when  they  give  this  account  of  the  prevalence  of 
faction,  they  present  no  very  favourable  aspect  of  the  confi- 
dence of  the  people  in  their  own  government.  They  may 
be  assured,  that  however  they  amuse  themselves  with  a  vari- 
ety of  projects  for  substituting  something  else  in  the  place 
of  that  great  and  only  foundation  of  government,  the  confi- 
dence of  the  people,  every  attempt  will  but  make  their  con- 
dition worse.  When  men  imagine  that  their  food  Is  only  a 
cover  for  poison,  and  when  they  neither  love  nor  trust  the 
hand  that  serves  it,  it  is  not  the  nam.e  of  the  roast  beef  of  Old 
England,  that  will  persuade  them  to  sit  down  to  the  tabic 


388  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

that  is  spread  for  them.  When  the  people  conceive  that 
laws,  and  tribunals,  and  even  popular  assemblies,  are  pervert- 
ed from  the  ends  of  their  institution,  they  find  in  those  names 
of  degenerated  establishments  only  new  motives  to  discontent. 
Those  bodies,  which,  when  full  of  life  and  beauty,  lay  in  their 
arms,  and  were  their  joy  and  comfort,  when  dead  and  putrid, 
become  but  the  more  loathsome  from  remembrance  of  former 
endearments.  A  sullen  gloom  and  furious  disorder,  prevail 
by  fits  J  the  nation  loses  its  relish  for  peace  and  prosperity,  as 
it  did  in  that  season  of  fulness  which  opened  our  troubles  in 
the  time  of  Charles  the  First.  A  species  of  men  to  whom  a 
state  of  order  would  become  a  sentence  of  obscurity,  are  nour- 
ished into  adangerons  magnitude  by  the  heat  of  intestine  dis- 
turbances ',  and  it  is  no  wonder  that,  by  a  sort  of  sinister  pie- 
ty, they  cherish,  in  their  turn,  the  disorders  which  are  the 
parents  of  all  their  consequence.  Superficial  observers  con- 
sider such  persons  as  the  cause  of  the  publick  uneasiness, 
when,  in  truth,  they  are  nothing  more  than  the  efiect  of  it. 
Good  men  look  upon  this  distracted  scene  with  sorrow  and 
indignation.  Their  hands  are  tied  behind  them.  They  ar^ 
despoiled  of  all  the  power  w^hich  might  enable  them  to  recon- 
cile the  strength  of  government  with  the  rights  of  the  people. 
They  stand  in  a  most  distressing  alternative.  But  in  the 
election  among  evils  they  hope  better  things  from  temporary 
confusion,  than  from  established  servitude.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  voice  of  law  is  not  to  be  heard.  Fierce  licentious- 
ness begets  violent  restraints.  The  military  arm  is  the  sole 
reliance  ;  and  then,  call  your  constitution  what  you  please,  it 
is  the  sword  that  governs.  The  civil  power,  like  every  other 
that  calls  in  the  aid  of  an  ally  stronger  than  itself,  perishes 
by  the  assistance  it  receives.  But  the  contrivers  of  this 
scheme  of  government  will  not  trust  solely  to  the  military 
power ;  because  they  are  cunning  men.  Their  restless  and 
crooked  spirit  drives  them  to  rake  in  the  dirt  of  every  kind 
of  expedient.  Unable  to  rule  the  multitude,  they  endeavour 
to  raise  divisions  amongst  them.  One  mob  is  hired  to  de- 
stroy another ;  a  procedure  which  at  once  encourages  the 
boldness  of  the  populace,  and  justly  increases  their  discontent. 
Men  become  pensioners  of  state  on  account  of  their  abilities 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  389 

in  the  array  of  riot,  and  the  discipline  of  confusion.  Gov- 
ernment Is  put  under  the  disgraceful  necessity  of  protecting 
from  the  severity  of  the  laws  that  very  licentiousness,  which 
the  laws  had  been  before  violated  to  repress.  Every  thing 
partakes  of  the  original  disorder.  Anarchy  predominates 
without  freedom,  and  servitude  without  submission  or  subor- 
dination. These  are  the  consequences  Inevitable  to  our  pub- 
lick  peace,  from  the  scheme  of  rendering  the  executory  gov- 
ernment at  once  odious  and  feeble  ;  of  freeing  administration 
from  the  constitutional  and  salutary  controul  of  parliament, 
and  inventing  for  It  a  ne%v  controul^  unknown  to  the  consti- 
tution, an  interior  cabinet ;  which  brings  the  whole  body  of 
government  into  confusion  and  contempt. 

After  having  stated,  as  shortly  as  I  am  able,  the  effects  of 
this  system  on  our  foreign  affairs,  on  the  policy  of  our  gov- 
ernment with  regard  to  our  dependencies, and  on  the  interiour 
economy  of  the  commonwealth  j  there  remains  only,  in  this 
part  of  my  design,  to  say  something  of  the  grand  principle 
which  first  recommended  this  system  at  court.  The  pre- 
tence was,  to  prevent  the  king  from  being  enslaved  by  a  fac- 
tion, and  made  a  prisoner  in  his  closet.  This  scheme  might 
have  been  expected  to  answer  at  least  its  own  end,  and  to 
indemnify  the  king,  in  his  personal  capacity,  for  all  the  con- 
fusion Into  which  It  has  thrown  his  government.  But  has  it 
in  reality  answered  this  purpose  ?  I  am  sure.  If  It  had,  every 
affectionate  subject  would  have  one  motive  for  enduring  with 
patience  all  the  evils  which  attend  It. 

In  order  to  come  at  the  truth  In  this  matter.  It  may  not  be 
amiss  to  consider  It  somewhat  in  detail.  I  speak  here  of 
the  king,  and  not  of  the  crown ;  the  interests  of  which  we 
have  already  touched.  Independent  of  that  greatness  which 
a  king  possesses  merely  by  being  a  representative  of  the  na- 
tional dignity,  the  things  in  which  he  may  have  an  individ- 
ual interest  seem  to  be  these  ; — wealth  accumulated  ;  wealth 
spent  in  magnlficence,pleasure,  or  beneficence  j  personal  respect 
and  attention-,  and  above  all,  private  ease  and  repose  of  mind. 
These  compose  the  inventory  of  prosperous  circumstances, 
whether  they  regard  a  prince  or  a  subject ;  their  enjoyments 
differing  only  In  the  scale  upon  which  they  are  formed. 


390  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

Suppose  then  we  were  to  ask,  whether  the  king  has  been 
richer  than  his  predecessors  in  accumulated  wealth,  since  the 
establishment  of  the  plan  of  favouritism  ?  I  believe  it  will  be 
found  that  the  picture  of  royal  indigence  which  our  court  has 
presented  until  this  year,  has  been  truly  humiliating.  Nor 
has  it  been  relieved  from  this  unseem  y  distress,  but  by  means 
which  have  hazarded  the  affection  of  the  people,  and  shaken 
their  confidence  in  parliament.  If  the  publick  treasures  had 
been  exhausted  in  magnificence  and  splendour,  this  distress 
would  have  been  accounted  for,  and  in  some  measure  justifi- 
ed. Nothing  would  be  more  unworthy  of  this  nation,  than 
with  a  mean  and  mechanical  rule,  to  mete  out  the  splendour 
of  the  crown.  Indeed  I  have  found  very  few  persons  dispo- 
sed to  so  ungenerous  a  procedure.  But  the  generality  of  peo- 
ple, it  must  be  confessed,  do  feel  a  good  deal  mortified,  when 
they  compare  the  wants  of  the  court  with  its  expences. 
They  do  not  behold  the  cause  of  this  distress  in  any  part  of 
the  apparatus  of  royal  magnificence.  In  all  this,  they  see 
nothing  but  the  operations  of  parsimony,  attended  with  all 
the  consequences  of  profusion.  Nothing  expended,  nothing 
saved.  Their  wonder  is  increased  by  their  knowledge,  that 
besides  the  revenue  settled  on  his  majesty's  civil  list  to  the 
amount  of  800,000/.  a  year,  he  has  a  farther  aid,  from  a 
large  pension  list,  near  90,000/.  a  year,  in  Ireland  ;  from  the 
produce  of  the  dutchy  of  Lancaster  (which  we  are  told  has 
been  greatly  improved)  ;  from  the  revenue  of  the  dutchy  of 
Cornwall ;  from  the  American  quit-reAts  ;  from  the  four  and 
a  h^iK per  cent,  duty  in  the  Leeward  Islands ;  this  last  worth 
to  be  sure  considerably  more  than  40,000/.  a  year.  The 
whole  is  certainly  not  much  short  of  a  million  annually. 

These  are  revenues  within  the  knowledge  and  cognizance 
of  our  national  councils.  We  have  no  direct  right  to  exam- 
ine into  the  receipts  from  his  majesty's  German  dominions, 
and  the  bishoprick  of  Osnaburg.  This  is  unquestionably  true. 
But  that  which  is  not  within  the  province  of  parliament,  is 
yet  within  the  sphere  of  every  man's  own  reflection.  If  a 
foreign  prince  resided  amongst  us,  the  state  of  his  revenues 
could  not  fail  of  becoming  the  subject  of  our  speculation. 
Filled  with  an  anxious  concern  for  whatever  regards  the  wel- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  39 1 

fere  of  our  sovereign,  It  is  impossible,  in  considering  the  mis- 
erable circumstances  into  which  he  has  been  brought,  that  this 
obvious  topick  should  be  entirely  passed  over.  There  is  an 
opinion  universal,  that  these  revenues  produce  something  not 
inconsiderable,  clear  of  all  charges  and  establishments.  This 
produce  the  people  do  not  beleive  to  be  hoarded,  nor  perceive 
to  be  spent.  It  is  accounted  for  in  the  only  manner  It  can,  by 
supposing  that  It  is  drawn  away,  for  the  support  of  that  court 
faction,  which,  whilst  it  distresses  the  nation,  impoverishes  the 
prince  in  every  one  of  his  resources.  I  once  more  caution  the 
reader,  that  I  do  not  urge  this  consideration  concerning  the 
foreign  revenue,  as  if  I  supposed  we  had  a  direct  right  to  ex- 
amine into  the  expenditure  of  any  part  of  it ;  but  solely  for 
the  purpose  of  shewing  how  little  this  system  of  favourit- 
ism has  been  advantageous  to  the  monarch  himself;  which, 
without  magnificence,  has  sunk  him  into  a  state  of  unnatur- 
al poverty ;  at  the  same  time  that  he  possessed  every  means 
of  affluence,  from  ample  revenues,  both  in  this  country,  and 
in  other  parts  of  his  dominions. 

Has  this  system  provided  better  for  the  treatment  becom- 
ing his  high  and  sacred  character,  and  secured  the  king 
from  those  disgusts  attached  to  the  necessity  of  employing 
men  who  are  not  personally  agreeable  ?  This  is  a  topick  up- 
on which  for  many  reasons  I  could  wish  to  be  silent ;  but 
the  pretence  of  securing  against  such  causes  of  uneasiness,  is 
the  corner-stone  of  the  court  party.  It  has  however  so  hap- 
pened, that  If  I  were  to  fix  upon  any  one  point,  In  which 
this  system  has  been  more  particularly  and  shamefully  blame- 
able,  the  effects  which  It  has  produced  would  justify  me 
in  choosing  for  that  point  Its  tendency  to  degrade  the  per- 
sonal dignity  of  the  sovereign,  and  to  expose  him  to  a  thous- 
and contradictions  and  mortifications.  It  is  but  too  evident 
in  what  manner  these  projectors  of  royal  greatness  have  ful- 
filled all  their  magnificent  promises.  Without  recapitulating 
all  the  circumstances  of  the  reign,  every  one  of  which  is  more 
or  less  a  melancholy  proof  of  the  truth  of  what  I  have  advan- 
ced, let  us  consider  the  language  of  the  court  but  a  fevr 
years  ago,  concerning  most  of  the  persons  now  in  the  exter- 
nal administration  :  let  me  ask,  whether  any   enemy  to  the 


<}92  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

personal  feelings  of  the  sovereign,  could  possibly  contrive  a 
keener  instrument  of  mortification,  and  degradation  of  all 
dignity,  than  almost  every  part  and  member  of  the  present 
arrangement  ?  nor,  in  the  whole  course  of  our  history,  has 
any  compliance  with  the  will  of  the  people  ever  been  known 
to  extort  from  any  prince  a  greater  contradiction  to  all  his 
own  declared  affections  and  dislikes  than  that  which  is  now 
adopted,  in  direct  opposition  to  every  thing  the  people  ap- 
prove and  desire. 

An  opinion  prevails,  that  greatness  has  been  more  than 
once  advised  to  submit  to  certain  condescensions  towards  in- 
dividuals, which  have  been  denied  to  the  entreaties  of  a  na- 
tion. For  the  meanest  and  most  dependent  instrument  of 
this  system  knows,  that  there  are  hours  when  its  existence 
may  depend  upon  his  adherence  to  it  ;  and  he  takes  his  ad- 
vantage accordingly.  Indeed  it  is  a  law  of  nature,  that  who- 
ever is  necessary  to  what  we  have  made  our  object,  is  sure  in 
some  way,  or  in  some  time  or  other,  to  become  our  master. 
All  this  however  is  submitted  to,  in  order  to  avoid  that  mon- 
strous evil  of  governing  in  concurrence  with  the  opinion  of 
the  people.  For  it  seems  to  be  laid  down  as  a  maxim,  that  a 
king  has  some  sort  of  interest  in  givin  guneasiness  to  his  sub- 
jects :  that  all  who  are  pleasing  to  them,  are  to  be  of  course 
disagreeable  to  him  :  that  as  soon  as  the  persons  who  are  odious 
at  court  are  known  to  be  odious  to  the  people,  it  is  snatched  at 
as  a  lucky  occasion  of  showering  down  upon  them  all  kinds  of 
emoluments  and  honours.  None  are  considered  as  well-wishers 
to  the  crown,  but  those  who  advise  to  some  unpopular  course 
of  action  ;  none  capable  of  serving  it,  but  those  who  are  obliged 
to  call  at  every  instant  upon  all  its  power  for  the  safety  of  their 
lives.  None  are  supposed  to  be  fit  priests  in  the  temple  of 
government,  but  the  persons  who  are  compelled  to  fly  into  it 
for  sanctuary.  Such  is  the  effect  of  this  refined  project  ; 
such  is  ever  the  result  of  all  the  contrivances  which  are  used 
to  free  men  from  the  servitude  of  their  reason,  and  from  the 
necessity  of  ordering  their  affairs  according  to  their  evident 
interests.  These  contrivances  oblige  them  to  run  into  a  real 
and  ruinous  servitude,  in  order  to  avoid  a  supposed  restraint 
that  might  be  attended  with  advantage. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  393 

if  therefore  this  system  has  so  ill  answered  its  own  grand 
■pretence  of  saving  the  king  from  the  necessity  of  employing 
persons  disagreeable  to  him,  has  it   given    more  peace    and 
tranquillity  to  his  majesty's  private    hours  ?     No,  most  cer- 
tainly.    The   father  of  his  people  cannot  possibly  enjoy  re- 
pose, while  his  family  is  in  such  a  state  of  distraction.    Then 
what  has  the   crown  or  the    king  profited  by  all  this  fine- 
wrought  scheme  ?     Is   he  more  rich,  or    more  splendid,  or 
more  powerful,  or  more  at  his  ease,  by  so  many  labours  and 
contrivances  ?    Have  they  not  beggared  his  exchequer,  tar-> 
nished  the   splendour  of   his   court,  sunk  his  dignity,  galled 
his   feelings,    discomposed  the  whole  order  and  happiness  of 
his  private  life  ? 

It  will  be  very  hard,  I  believe,  to  state  in  what  respect  the 
king  has  profited  by  that  faction  which  presumptuously  choose 
to  call  themselves  his  friends. 

If  particular  men  had  grown   into   an  attachment,  by  the 
distinguished  honour  of  the  society  of  their  sovereign  ;  and, 
by  being  the  partakers  of  his  amusements,  came  sometimes  to 
prefer  the  gratification   of  his   personal   inclinations  to   the 
support  of  his  high  character,  the  thing  wouiu  be  very   nat- 
ural, and  it  would  be  excusable   enough.      But  the  pleasant 
part  of  the    story  is,  that  these  kitig^s  friends  have  no  more 
ground  for  usurping  such  a  title,  than  a  resident  freeholder 
in  Cumberland  or  in  Cornwall.     They    are   only   known  to 
their  sovereign  by  kissing  his  hand,  for  the  offices,  pensions, 
and  grants,  into  which  they    have    deceived   his  benignity. 
May  no  storm  ever  come,  which  will  put  the  firmness  of  their 
attachment  to  the  proof  ;   and  which,  in  the  midst  of  confu- 
sions, and  terrours,  and  sufl'erings,  may  demonstrate  the  eter- 
nal difference  between  a  true  and  severe  friend  to  the  mon- 
archy, and  a  slippery  sycophant  of  the  court  !      Quantum   in- 
fdo  scurra  distahit  amicus. 

So  far  I  have  considered  the  effect  of  the  court  system, 
chiefly  as  it  operates  upon  the  executive  government,  on  the 
temper  of  the  people,  and  on  the  happiness  of  the  sovereign. 
It  remains,  that  we  should  consider,  with  a  little  attention,  its 
operation  upon  parliament. 
Vol.  I.  D  D  d 


394f  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

Parliament  was  indeed  the  great  object  of  all  these  poli- 
ticks, the  end  at  which  they  aimed,  as  well  as  the  instrument 
by  which  they  were  to  operate.  But,  before  parliament  could 
be  made  subservient  to  a  system,  by  which  it  was  to  be  de- 
graded from  the  dignity  of  a  national  council,  into  a  mere 
member  of  the  court,  it  must  be  greatly  changed  from  its  orig- 
inal character. 

In  speaking  of  this  body,  I  have  my  eye  chiefly  on  the 
house  of  commons.  I  hope  I  shall  be  indulged  in  a  few  ob- 
servations on  the  nature  and  character  of  that  assembly  ;  not 
with  regard  to  its  legal  form  and  powers  but  to  its  spirit^  and 
to  the  purposes  it  is  meant  to  answer  in  the  constitution. 

The  house  of  commons  was  supposed  originally  to  be  no 
part  of  the  standing  govermnetit  of  this  country.  It  was  consid- 
ered as  a  controiil^  issuing  immediately  from  the  people,  and 
speedily  to  be  resolved  into  the  mass  from  whence  it  arose. 
In  this  respect  it  was  in  the  higher  part  of  government  what 
juries  are  in  the  low^er.  The  capacity  of  a  magistrate  being 
transitory,  and  that  of  a  citizen  permanent,  the  latter  capacity 
it  was  hoped  Avould  of  course  preponderate  in  all  discussions, 
not  only  between  the  people  and  the  standing  authority  of  the 
crown, but  between  the  people  and  the  fleeting  authority  of  the 
house  of  commons  itself.  It  was  hoped  that,  being  of  a  mid- 
dle nature  between  subject  and  government,  they  would  feel 
with  a  more  tender  and  a  nearer  interest  every  thing  that  con- 
cerned the  people,  than  the  other  remoter  and  more  perma- 
nent parts  of  legislature. 

Whatever  alterations  time  and  the  necessary  accommoda- 
tion of  business  may  have  introduced,  this  character  can  nev- 
er be  sustained,  unless  the  house  of  commons  shall  be  made 
to  bear  some  stamp  of  the  actual  disposition  of  the  people  at 
large.  It  would  (among  publick  misfortunes)  be  an  evil 
more  natural  and  tolerable,  that  the  house  of  commons  should 
be  infected  with  every  epidemical  phrensy  of  the  people,  as 
this  v^ould  indicate  some  consanguinity,  some  sympathy  of 
nature  with  their  constituents,than  that  they  should  in  all  cases 
be  wholly  untouched  by  the  opinions  and  feelings  of  the  peo- 
ple out  of  doors.  By  this  want  of  sympathy  they  would  cease 
to  be  a  house  of  commons.     For  it  is  not  the  derivation  of  the 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  S95 

power  of  that  house  from  the  people,  which  makes  It  in  a 
distinct  sense  their  representative.  The  king  is  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  people  j  so  are  the  lords  ;  so  are  the  judges. 
They  all  are  trustees  for  the  people,  as  well  as  the  commons  ; 
because  no  power  is  given  for  the  sole  sake  of  the  holder  ; 
and  although  government  certainly  is  an  institution  of  divine 
authority,  yet  its  forms,  and  the  persons  who  administer  it,  all 
originate  from  the  people. 

A  popular  origin  cannot  therefore  be  the  characteristical 
distinction  of  a  popular  representative.  This  belongs  equally 
to  all  parts  of  government,  and  in  all  forms.  The  virtue, 
spirit,  and  essence  of  a  house  of  commons  consists  in  its  be- 
ing the  express  image  of  the  feelings  of  the  nation.  It  was 
Hot  instituted  to  be  a  controul  upo7t  the  people,  as  of  late  it 
has  been  taught,  by  a  doctrine  of  the  most  pernicious  ten- 
dency. It  was  designed  as  a  controul  y^r  the  people.  Other 
institutions  have  been  formed  for  the  purpose  of  checking 
popular  excesses  ;  and  they  are,  I  apprehend,  fully  adequate 
to  their  object.  If  not,  they  ought  to  be  made  so.  The  house 
of  commons,  as  it  was  never  intended  for  the  support  of  peace 
and  subordination, is  miserably  appointed  for  that  service-,  hav- 
ing no  stronger  weapon  than  its  mace,  and  no  better  officer 
than  its  serjeant  at  arms,  which  it  can  command  of  its  own  prop- 
er authority.  A  vigilant  and  jealous  eye  over  executory  and 
judicial  magistracy  ;  an  anxious  care  of  public  money,  an 
openness,  approaching  towards  facility,  to  publick  complaint : 
these  seem  to  be  the  true  characteristicks  of  a  house  of  com- 
motis.  But  an  addressing  house  of  commons,  and  a  petition- 
ing nation  ;  a  house  of  commons  full  of  confidence,  when 
the  nation  is  plunged  in  despair  -,  in  the  utmost  harmony 
with  ministers,  whom  the  people  regard  with  the  utmost  ab- 
horrence -,  who  vote  thanks,  when  the  publick  opinion  calls 
upon  them  for  impeachments  ;  who  are  eager  to  grant,  when 
the  general  voice  demands  account  ;  who,  in  all  disputes  be- 
tween the  people  and  administration,  presume  against  the 
people  ;  who  punish  their  disorders,  but  refuse  even  to  in- 
quire Into  the  provocations  to  them  ;  this  is  an  unnatural,  a 
monstrous  state  of  things  in  this  constitution.  Such  an  as- 
sembly may  be  a  great,  wise,  awful  senate  ;   but  It  is  not  to 


396  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

any  popular  purpose  a  house  of  commons.  This  change  from 
an  immediate  state  of  procuration  and  delegation  to  a  course 
of  acting  as  from  original  power,  is  the  way  in  which  all  the 
popular  magistracies  in  the  world  have  been  perverted  from 
their  purposes.  It  is  indeed  their  greatest  and  sometimes 
their  incurable  corruption.  For  there  is  a  material  distinc- 
tion between  that  corruption  by  which  particular  points  are 
carried  against  reason,  (this  is  a  thing  which  cannot  be  pre- 
vented by  human  wisdom,  and  is  of  less  consequence)  and  the 
corruption  of  the  principle  itself.  For  then  the  evil  is  not  ac- 
cidental, but  settled.  The  distemper  becomes  the  natural  habit. 

For  my  part,  I  shall  be  compelled  to  conclude  the  princi- 
ple of  parliament  to  be  totally  corrupted,  and  therefore  its 
ends  entirely  defeated,  when  I  see  two  symptoms  ;  first,  a 
rule  of  indiscriminate  support  to  all  ministers  ;  because  this 
destroys  the  very  end  of  parliament  as  a  controul,  and  is  a 
general  previous  sanction  to  misgovernment  ;  and  secondly, 
the  setting  up  any  claims  adverse  to  the  right  of  free  election  j 
for  this  tends  to  subvert  the  legal  authority  by  which  the 
house  of  commons  sits. 

I  know  that,  since  the  Revolution,  along  with  many  dan- 
gerous, many  useful  powers  of  government  have  been  weak- 
ened. It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  have  frequent  recourse  to 
the  legislature.  Parliaments  must  therefore  sit  every  year, 
and  for  great  part  of  the  year.  The  dreadful  disorders  of 
frequent  elections  have  also  necessitated  a  septennial  instead 
of  a  triennial  duration.  These  circumstances,  I  mean  the 
constant  habit  of  authority,  and  the  unfrequency  of  elections, 
have  tended  very  much  to  draw  the  house  of  commons  to- 
wards the  character  of  a  standing  senate.  It  is  a  disorder 
which  has  arisen  from  the  cure  of  greater  disorders ;  it  has 
arisen  from  the  extreme  difficulty  of  reconciling  liberty  un- 
der a  monarchial  government,  with  external  strength  and 
with  internal  tranquillity. 

It  is  very  clear  that  we  cannot  free  ourselves  entirely  from 
this  great  inconvenience  ;  but  I  would  not  increase  an  evil, 
because  I  was  not  able  to  remove  it  -,  and  because  it  was  not  in 
my  power  to  keep  the  house  of  commons  religiously  true  to 
its  first  principles,  I  would  not  argue  for  carrying  it  to  a  total 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  397 

oblivion  of  them.     This  has  been  the  great  scheme  of  power 
in  our  time.     They  who  will  not  conform  their  conduct  to  the 
publick  good,  and  cannot  support  it  by  the  prerogative  of  the 
crown,  have  adopted  a  new  plan.     They  have  totally  abandon- 
ed the  shattered  and  old-fashioned  fortress  of  prerogative,  and 
made  a  lodgement  in  the  strong  hold  of  parliament  itself.    If 
they  have  any  evil  design  to  which  there  is  no  ordinary  legal 
power  commensurate,  they  bring  it  into  parliament.    In  par- 
liament the  whole  is  executed  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 
In  parliament  the  power  of  obtaining  their  object  is  absolute  ; 
and  the  safety  in  the  proceeding  perfect  ;  no  rules  to  confine, 
no  after-reckonings  to  terrify.     Parliament  cannot   with  any 
great  propriety  punish  others,  for  things  in  which  they  them- 
selves have  been  accomplices.     Thus  the  controul  of  parlia- 
ment upon  the  executory  power  is  lost  -,  because  parliament  is 
made  to  partake  in  every   considerable    act  of   government. 
Impeachment,  that  great  guardian  of  the  purity  of  the  constitictioJi, 
is  in  danger  of  being  lost,  even  to  the  idea  of  it. 

By  this  plan  several   important   ends  are  answered  to  the 
cabal.     If  the  authority  of  parliament    supports    itself,    the 
credit  of  every  act  of  government  which  they  contrive,  is  sav- 
ed J  but  if  the  act  be  so  very  odious  that  the  whole  strength 
of  parliament  is  insufficient  to  recommend  it,  then  parliament 
is  itself  discredited  ;    and  this  discredit  increases   more  and 
more  that  indifference  to  the  constitution,  which  it  is  the  con- 
stant aim  of  its  enemies,  by  their  abuse  of  parliamentary  pow- 
ers, to  render  general    among  the  people.     Whenever  par- 
liament is  persuaded  to  assume   the  offices  of  executive  gov- 
ernment, it  will  lose  all  the  confidence,  love,  and  veneration, 
which  it  has  ever  enjoyed  whilst  it  was  supposed  the  correct 
five  and  controul   of   the   acting  powers  of  the  state.     This 
would  be  the  event,  though  its  conduct  in  such  a  perversion 
of  its  functions  should  be  tolerably   just  and  moderate  ;  but 
if  it  should  be  iniquitous,  violent,   full  of  passion,  and  full  of 
faction,  it  would  be  considered  as  the   most  intolerable  of  all 
the  modes  of  tyranny. 

For  a  considerable  time  this  separation  of  the  representatives 
from  their  constituents  went  on  with  a  silent  progress ;  and 
had  those,  who  conducted  the  plan  for  their  total  separation. 


39S  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

been  persons  of  temper  and  abilities  any  way  equal  to  the 
magnitude  of  their  design,  the  success  would  have  been  infal- 
hble  :  but  by  their  precipitancy  they  have  laid  it  open  in  all 
its  nakedness  ;  the  nation  is  alarmed  at  it  :  and  the  event 
may  not  be  pleasant  to  the  contrivers  of  the  scheme.  In 
the  last  session,  the  corps  called  the  king^s  friends  made  an 
hardy  attempt  all  at  once,  to  alter  the  right  of  election  itself;  to 
put  it  into  the  power  of  the  house  of  commons  to  disable  any 
person  disagreeable  to  them  from  sitting  in  parliament,  with- 
out iny  other  rule  than  their  own  pleasure ;  to  make  inca- 
pacities, either  general  for  descriptions  of  men,  or  particular 
for  individuals  ;  and  to  take  into  their  body,  persons  who 
avowedly  had  never  been  chosen  by  the  majority  of  legal 
electors,  nor  agreeably  to  any  known  rule  of  law. 

The  arguments  upon  which  this  claim  was  founded  and 
combatted,  are  not  my  business  here.  Never  has  a  subject 
been  more  amply  and  more  learnedly  handled,  nor  upon  one 
side  in  my  opinion  more  satisfactorily  ;  they  who  are  not 
convinced  by  what  is  already  written  would  not  receive  con- 
viction though  one  arose  from  the  dead. 

I  too  have  thought  on  this  subject :  but  my  purpose  here, 
is  only  to  consider  it  as  a  part  of  the  favourite  project  of  gov- 
ernment ;  to  observe  on  the  motives  which  led  to  it ;  and 
to  trace  its  political  consequences. 

A  violent  rage  for  the  punishment  of  Mr.  Wilkes  was  the 
pretence  of  the  whole.  This  gentleman,  by  setting  himself 
strongly  in  opposition  to  the  court  cabal,  had  become  at  once 
an  object  of  their  persecution,  and  of  the  popular  favour. 
The  hatred  of  the  court  party  pursuing,  and  the  countenance 
of  the  people  protecting  him,  it  very  soon  became  not  at  all 
a  question  on  the  man,  but  a  trial  of  strength  between  the 
two  parties.  The  advantage  of  the  victory  in  this  particular 
contest  was  the  present,  but  not  the  only,  nor  by  any  means 
the  principal,  object.  Its  operation  upon  the  character  of  the 
house  of  commons  was  the  great  point  in  view.  The  point 
to  be  gained  by  the  cabal  was  this ;  that  a  precedent  should 
be  established,  tending  to  shew,  That  the  favour  of  the  people 
nvas  not  so  sure  a  road  as  the  favour  of  the  court  even  to  popular 
honours  and  popular  trusts.     A  strenuous  resistance  to   every 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  399 

appearance  of  lawless  power  *,  a  spirit  of  independence  carri- 
ed to  some  degree  of  enthusiasm  ;  an  inquisitive  character  to 
discover,  and  a  bold  one  to  display,  every  corruption  and  ev- 
ery  errour  of   government ;   these  are  the  qualities  which 
recommend  a  man  to  a  seat  in   the  house  of  commons,  in 
©pen  and  merely  popular   elections.     An    indolent  and  sub- 
missive disposition  j  a   disposition  to  think  charitably  of  all 
the   actions  of  men  in  power,  and  to  live   in  a  mutual  inter- 
course of  favours  with  them  j  an  inclination   rather  to  coun- 
tenance a  strong  use  of  authority,  than  to  bear  any  sort  ^f  li- 
centiousness on  the  part  of  the  people  ;  these  are  unfavoura- 
ble qualities  in  an  open  election  for  members  of  parliament. 
The  instinct  which  carries  the  people  towards  the  choice  of 
the  former,  is  justified  by  reason  ;  because  a   man  of  such  a 
character,  even  in  its  exorbitances,  does  not  directly  contra- 
dict the  purposes  of  a   trust,  the  end  of  which  is  a  controul 
on  power.     The  latter  character,  even  when  it  is  not  in   its 
extreme,  will   execute  this  trust  but  very  imperfectly  ;  and, 
if  deviating  to  the  least  excess,  will  certainly  frustrate  instead 
of  forwarding  the  puposes  of  a  controul  on  government.    But 
when  the  house  of  commons    was  to  be   new  modelled,  this 
principle  was  not  only  to  be  changed  but  reversed.     Whilst 
any  errours  committed  in  support  of  power   were  left  to  the 
law,  with  every  advantage  of  favourable  construction,  of  miti- 
gation,^d  finally  of  pardon  ;  all  excesses  on  the  side  of  lib- 
erty, or  in  pursuit  of  popular  favour,  or  in  defence  of  popular 
rights  and  privileges,  were  not  only  to  be  punished  by  the 
rigour  of  the  known  law,  but  by   a  discretionary   proceeding 
\vhich  brought  on  the  loss  of  the  popular  object  itself.     Popular- 
ity was  to  be  rendered,  if  not  directly  penal,  at  least  highly 
dangerous.     The  favour  of  the  people  might  lead  even  to  a 
disqualification  of  representing  them.     Their  odium  might 
become,  strained  through  the  medium  of  two  or  three  con- 
structions, the  means  of  sitting  as   the  trustee  of  all  that  was 
dear  to  them.     This  is  punishing  the  off^ence  in  the  offend- 
ing part.     Until  this  time,  the  opinion  of  the  people,  through 
the  power  of  an  assembly,  still  in  some  sort  popular,  led  to  the 
greatest  honours  and  emoluments  in  the  gift  of  the  crown. 
Now  the  principle  is  reversed  ;  and  the  favour  of  the  cotirt 


400  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

is  the  only  sure  way  of  obtaining  and  holding  those  honours 
which  ought  to  be  in  the  disposal  of  the  people. 

It  signifies  very  little  how  this  matter  may  be  quibbled 
away.  Example,  the  only  argument  of  eflfect  in  civil  life^ 
demonstrates  the  truth  of  my  proposition.  Nothing  can  al- 
ter my  opinion  concerning  the  pernicious  tendency  of  this 
example,  until  I  see  some  man  for  his  indiscretion  in  the  sup- 
port of  power,  for  his  violent  and  intemperate  servility,  ren- 
dered incapable  of  sitting  in  parliament.  For  as  it  now  stands, 
the  ^ult  of  overstraining  popular  qualities,  and,  irregularly  if 
you  please,  asserting  popular  privileges,  has  led  to  disqualifica- 
tion j  the  opposite  fault  never  has  produced  the  slightest  pun- 
ishmenjt.  Resistance  to  power,  has  shut  the  door  of  the  house 
of  commons  to  one  man  •,  obsequiousness  and  servility,to  none* 

Not  that  I  would  encourage  popular  disorder,  or  any  disor- 
der.    But  I  would  leave  such  offences  to  the  law,  to  be  pun- 
ished in  measure  and   proportion.     The  laws   of  this  country 
are  for  the  most  part  constituted,  and  wisely  so,  for  the  gen- 
eral ends  of  government,  rather  than  for  the  preservation  of 
our  particular  liberties.     Whatever  therefore  is  done  in  sup- 
port of  liberty,  by  persons   not  in  publick  trust,  or  not  acting 
merely  in  that  trust,  is  liable  to  be  more  or  less  out  of  the  or- 
dinary course  of  the  law  ;  and  the   law  itself  is  sufficient  to 
animadvert  upon  it  v/ith  great  severity.     Nothing  indeed  can 
hinder  that  severe   letter  from  crushing  us,  except   the  tem- 
peraments it  may  receive  from  a  trial  by  jury.    But  if  the  hab- 
it prevails  o£ going  beyond  the  laiu,  and  superseding  this  judica- 
ture, of  carrying  offences,  real  or  supposed,  into  the  legislative 
bodies,  who  shall  establish  themselves  into  courts  of  criminal 
equity  (so  the  star  chamber  has  been  called  by  Lord  Bacon),  all 
the  evils  of  the  star  chamber  are  revived.     A  large  and  liberal 
construction  in  ascertaining  offences,  and  a  discretionary  pow- 
er in  punishing  them,  is  the  idea  of  criminal  equity ;  which  is 
in  truth  a   monster   in  jurisprudence.     It  signifies    nothing 
whether  a  court  for  this  purpose  be  a  committee  of  council  or 
a  house  of  commons,  or  a  house  of  lords  ;  the  liberty  of  the 
subject  will  be  equally  subverted  by  it.     The  true  end  and 
purpose  of  that  house  of  parliament  which  entertains  such  a 
jurisdiction  will  be  destroyed  by  it. 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  401 

I  will  not  believe,  what  no  other  man  Hving  believes,  that 
Mr.  Wilkes  was  punished  for  the  indecency  of  his  publications, 
or  the  impiety  of  his  ransacked  closet.  If  he  had  fallen  in  a 
common  slaughter  of  libellers  and  blasphemers,  I  could  well 
believe  that  nothing  more  was  meant  than  was  pretended. 
But  when  I  see  that,  for  years  together,  full  as  impious,  and 
perhaps  more  dangerous  writings  to  religion  and  virtue  and 
order,  have  not  been  punished,  nor  their  authors  discounte- 
nanced ;  that  the  most  audacious  libels  on  royal  majesty  have 
passed  without  notice  ;  that  the  most  treasonable  invecj^ves 
against  the  laws,  liberties,  and  constitution  of  the  country, 
have  not  met  with  the  slightest  animadversion  j  I  must  con- 
sider this  as  a  shocking  and  shameless  pretence.  Never  did 
an  envenomed  scurrility  against  every  thing  sacred  and  civil, 
publick  and  private,  rage  through  the  kingdom  with  such  a 
furious  and  unbridled  licence.  All  this  while  the  peace  of 
the  nation  must  be  shaken,  to  ruin  one  libeller,  and  to  tear 
from  the  populace  a  single  favourite. 

Nor  is  it  that  vice  merely  skulks  in  an  obscure  and  con- 
temptible impunity.  Does  not  the  publick  behold  with  In- 
dignation, persons  not  only  generally  scandalous  in  their  lives, 
but  the  identical  persons  who,  by  their  society,  their  instruc- 
tion, their  example,  their  encouragement,  have  drawn  this 
man  into  the  very  faults  which  have  furnished  the  cabal  with 
a  pretence  for  his  persecution,  loaded  with  every  kind  of  fa- 
vour, honour,  and  distinction,  which  a  court  can  bestow  ? 
Add  but  the  crime  of  servility  {th.Q  fosdum  crimen  servituiis)  to 
every  ether  crime,  and  the  whole  mass  is  immediately  trans- 
muted into  virtue,  and  becomes  the  just  subject  of  reward  and 
honour.  When  therefore  I  reflect  upon  this  method  pursued 
by  the  cabal  in  distributing  rewards  and  punishments,  I  must 
conclude  that  Mr.  Wilkes  is  the  object  of  persecution,  not  on 
account  of  what  he  has  done  in  common  with  others  who  are 
the  objects  of  reward,  but  for  that  in  which  he  differs  fi-om 
many  of  them  :  that  he  is  pursued  for  the  spirited  disposi- 
tions which  are  blended  with  his  vices  ;  for  his  unconquera-^ 
ble  firmness,  for  his  resolute,  indefatigable,  strenuous  res-ist- 
ance  against  oppression. 

Vol.  T.  K  e  e 


402  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  01- 

In  this  case,  therefore,  it  was  not  the  man  that  was  to  be 
punished,  nor  his  faults  that  were  to  be  discountenanced. 
Opposition  to  acts  of  power  was  to  be  marked  by  a  kind  of 
civil  proscription.  The  popularity  which  should  arise  from 
such  an  opposition  was  to  be  shewn  unable  to  protect  it.  The 
qualities  by  which  court  is  made  to  the  people,  were  to  ren- 
der every  fault  inexpiable,  and  every  errour  irretrievable.  The 
qualities  by  wliich  court  is  made  to  power,  were  to  cover  and 
to  sanctify  every  thing.  He  that  will  have  a  sure  and  hon- 
ourable seat  in  the  house  of  commons,  must  take  care  how  he 
adventures  to  cultivate  popular  qnalities  5  otherwise  he  may 
remember  the  old  maxim,  Breves  et  iufaustos  popuH  Romani 
amores.  If,  therefore,  a  pursuit  of  popularity  expose  a  man 
to  greater  dangers  than  a  disposition  to  servility,  the  princi- 
ple which  is  the  life  and  soul  of  popular  elections  will  perish 
out  of  the  constitution. 

It  behoves  the  people  of  England  to  consider  how  the  house 
of  commons,  under  the  operation  of  these  examples  must  of 
necessity  be  constituted.  On  the  side  of  the  court  will  be, 
all  honours,  offices,  emoluments  ;  every  sort  of  personal  grat- 
ification to  avarice  or  vanity  •,  and  what  is  of  more  moment  to 
most  gentlemen,  the  means  of  growing,  by  innumerable  pet- 
ty services  to  individuals,  into  a  spreading  interest  in  their 
country.  On  the  other  hand,  let  us  suppose  a  person  uncon- 
nected with  the  court,  and  in  opposition  to  its  system.  For 
his  own  person,  no  office,  or  emolument,  or  title  ;  no  promo- 
tion ecclesiastical,  or  civil,  or  military,  or  naval,  for  children, 
or  brothers,  or  kindred.  In  vain  an  expiring  interest  in  a 
borough  calls  for  offices,  or  small  livings,  for  the  children  of 
mayors,  and  aldermen,  and  capital  burgesses.  His  court  rival 
has  them  all .  He  can  do  an  infinite  number  of  acts  of  gen- 
erosity and  kindness,  and  even  of  publick  spirit.  He  can  pro- 
cure indemnity  from  quarters.  He  can  procure  advantages 
in  trade.  He  can  get  pardons  for  offences.  He  can  obtain  a 
thousand  favours,  and  avert  a  thousand  evils.  He  may,  while 
he  betrays  every  valuable  interest  of  the  kingdom,  be  a  ben- 
efactor, a  patron,  a  father,  a  guardian  angel,  to  his  borough. 
The  unfortunate  independent  member  has  nothing  to  offer, 
but  harsh  refusal,  or  pitiful  excuse,  or  despondent  represen- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  403 

tation  of  an  hopeless  interest.  Except  from  his  private  for- 
tune, in  which  he  may  be  equalled,  perhaps  exceeded,  by  his 
court  competitor,  he  has  no  way  of  shewing  any  one  good  , 
quality,  or  of  making  a  single  friend.  In  the  house,  he  votes 
forever  in  a  dispirited  minority.  If  he  speaks,  the  doors  are 
locked.  A  body  of  loquacious  place-men  go  out  to  tell  the 
world  that  all  he  aims  at  is  to  get  into  office.  If  he  has  not 
the  talent  of  elocution,  which  is  the  case  of  many  as  wise 
and  knowing  men  as  any  in  the  house,  he  is  liable  to  all  these 
inconveniences,  without  the  eclat  which  attends  upon  any 
tolerably  successful  exertion  of  eloquence.  Can  we  conceive 
a  more  discouraging  post  of  duty  than  this  ?  Strip  it  of  the 
poor  reward  of  popularity  ;  suffer  even  the  excesses  commit- 
ted in  defence  of  the  popular  interest,  to  become  a  ground 
for  the  majority  of  that  house  to  form  a  disqualification  out 
of  the  line  of  the  law,  and  at  their  pleasure,  attended  not  on- 
ly with  the  loss  of  the  franchise,  but  with  every  kind  of  per- 
sonal disgrace. — If  this  shall  happen,  the  people  of  this  king- 
dom may  be  assured  that  they  cannot  be  firmly  or  faithfully 
served  by  any  man.  It  is  out  of  the  nature  of  men  and  things 
that  they  should  ;  and  their  presumption  will  be  e  qual  to 
their  folly  if  they  expect  it.  The  power  of  the  people,  with- 
in the  laws,  must  shew  itself  sufhcienl  to  protect  every  rep- 
resentative in  the  animated  performance  of  his  duty,  or  that 
duty  cannot  be  performed.  The  house  of  commons  can 
never  be  a  controul  on  other  parts  of  government  unless 
they  are  controuled  themselves  by  their  constituents  ;  and 
unless  these  constituents  possess  some  right  in  the  choice  of 
that  house,  which  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  that  house  to  take 
away.  If  they  suffer  this  power  of  arbitrary  incapacitation 
to  stand,  they  have  utterly  perverted  every  other  power  of 
the  house  of  commons.  The  late  proceeding,  I  will  not  say, 
is  contrary  to  law  j  it  mus(  be  so  ;  for  the  power  which  is 
claimed  cannot,  by  any  possibility,  be  a  legal  power  in  any 
limited  member  of  government. 

The  power  which  they  claim,  of  declaring  incapacities, 
would  not  be  above  the  just  claims  of  a  final  judicature,  if  they 
had  not  laid  it  down  as  a  leading  principle,  that  they  had  no 
rule  in  the  exercise  of  this  claim,  but  their   own   discretion. 


404?  THOUGHTS  ON   THE  CAUSE  OF 

Not  one  of  their  abettors  has  ever  undertaken  to  assign  the 
principle  of  unfitness,  the  species  or  degree  of  delinquency, 
on  which  the  house  of  commons  will  expel,  nor  the  mode  of 
proceeding  upon  it,  nor  the  evidence  upon  which  it  is  estab- 
lished. The  direct  consequence  of  which  is,  that  the  first 
franchise  of  an  Englishman,  and  that  on  which  all  the  rest 
vitally  depend,  is  to  be  forfeited  for  some  offence  which  no 
man  knows,  and  which  is  to  be  proved  by  no  known  rule 
whatsoever  of  legal  evidence.  This  is  so  anomalous  to  our 
whole  constitution,  that  I  will  venture  to  say,  the  most  trivial 
right  which  the  subject  claims,  never  was,  nor  can  be,  forfeit- 
ed in  such  a  manner. 

The  whole  of  their  usurpation  is  established  upon  this 
xnethod  of  arguing.  We  do  not  make  laws.  No  ;  we  do 
not  contend  for  this  power.  We  only  declare  law  ;  and,  as 
we  are  a  tribunal  both  competent  and  supreme,  what  we  de- 
clare to  be  law  becomes  law,  although  it  should  not  have 
been  so  before.  Thus  the  circumstance  of  having  no  appeal 
from  their  jurisdiction  is  made  to  imply  that  they  have  no 
rule  in  the  exercise  of  it  ;  the  judgment  does  not  derive  its 
validity  from  its  conformity  to  the  law  ;  but  preposterously 
the  law  is  made  to  attend  on  the  judgment  ;  and  the  rule  of 
the  judgment  is  no  other  than  the  occasiotml  will  of  the  house. 
An  arbitrary  discretion  leads,  legality  follows  ;  which  is  just 
the  very  nature  and  description  of  a  legislative  act. 

This  claim  in  their  hands  was  no  barren  theory.  It  was 
pursued  into  its  utmost  consequences  ;  and  a  dangerous  prin- 
ciple has  begot  a  correspondent  practice.  A  systematick  spirit 
has  been  shewn  upon  both  sides.  The  electors  of  Middlesex 
chose  a  person  whom  the  house  of  commons  had  voted  inca- 
pable ;  and  the  house  of  commons  has  taken  in  a  member 
whom  the  electors  of  Middlesex  had  not  chosen.  By  a  con- 
struction on  that  legislative  power  which  had  been  assumed, 
they  declared  that  the  true  legal  sense  of  the  county  was  con- 
tained in  the  minority,  on  that  occasion  j  and  might,  on  a  re- 
sistance to  a  vote  of  incapacity,  be  contained  in  any  minority. 

When  any  construction  of  law  goes  against  the  spirit  of 
the  privilege  it  was  meant  to  support,  it  is  a  vicious  construc- 
tion.    It  is  material  to  us  to  be  represented  really  and  l>ot}a 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  405 

jidey  and  not  in  forms,  in  types,  and  shadows,  and  fictions  of 
law.  The  right  of  election  was  not  established  merely  as  .i 
matter  of  form  ^  to  satisfy  some  method  and  rule  of  technical 
reasoning  j  it  was  not  a  principle  which  might  substitute  a 
Titius  or  a  Maevius^  a  John  Doe  or  Richard  Roe,  in  the  place 
of  a  man  specially  chosen  ;  not  a  principle  which  was  just  as 
■well  satisfied  with  one  man  as  with  another.  It  is  a  right, 
the  effect  of  which  is  to  give  to  the  people,  that  man,  and  that 
man  onlyy  whom  by  their  voices,  actually,  not  constructively 
given,  they  declare  that  they  know,  esteem,  love,  and  trust. 
This  right  is  a  matter  within  their  own  power  of  judging  and 
feeling  ;  not  an  ens  rationis  and  creature  of  law  :  nor  can 
those  devices,  by  which  any  thing  else  is  substituted  in  the 
place  of  such  an  actual  choice,  answer  in  the  least  degree  the 
end  of  representation. 

I  know  that  the  courts  of  law  have  made  as  strained  con- 
structions in  other  cases.  Such  is  the  construction  in  common 
recoveries.  The  method  of  construction  which  in  that  case 
gives  to  the  persons  in  remainder,  for  their  security  and  rep- 
resentative, the  door-keeper,  cryer,  or  sweeper  of  the  court, 
or  some  other  shadowy  being  without  substance  or  effect,  is  a 
fiction  of  a  very  coarse  texture.  This  was  however  suffered, 
by  the  acquiescence  of  the  whole  kingdom,  for  ages,  because 
the  evasion  of  the  old  statute  of  Westminster,  which  author- 
ized perpetuities,  had  more  sense  and  utility  than  the  law 
which  was  evaded.  But  an  attempt  to  turn  the  right  of  elec- 
tion into  such  a  farce  and  mockery  as  a  fictitious  fine  and  re- 
covery, will,  I  hope,  have  another  fate  j  because  the  laws  which 
give  it  are  infinitely  dear  to  us,  and  the  evasion  is  infinitely 
contemptible. 

The  people  indeed  have  been  told,  that  this  power  of  dis- 
cretionary disqualification  is  vested  in  hands  that  they  may 
trust,  and  who  will  be  sure  not  to  abuse  it  to  their  prejudice. 
Until  I  find  something  in  this  argument  differing  from  that 
on  which  every  mode  of  despotism  has  been  defended,  I 
shall  not  be  inclined  to  pay  it  any  great  compliinent.  The 
people  are  satisfied  to  trust  themselves  with  the  exercise  of 
their  own  privileges,  and  do  not  desire  this  kind  intervention 
of  the  house  of  comm.ons  to  free  them  from  the  burthen. 


i06  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

They  are  certainly  in  the  right.  They  ought  not  to  trust  the 
house  of  commons  with  a  power  over  their  franchises  :  be- 
cause the  constitution,  which  placed  two  other  co-ordinate 
powers  to  controul  it,  reposed  no  such  confidence  in  that 
body.  It  were  a  folly  well  deserving  servitude  for  its  pun- 
ishment, to  be  full  of  confidence  where  the  laws  are  full  of 
distrust ;  and  to  give  to  a  house  of  commons,  arrogating  to 
its  sole  resolution  the  most  harsh  and  odious  part  of  legisla- 
tive authority,  that  degree  of  submission  which  is  due  only 
to  the  legislature  itself. 

When  the  house  of  commons,  in  an  endeavour  to  obtain 
new  advantages  at  the  expence  of  the  other  orders  of  the 
state,  for  the  benefit  of  the  commons  at  large^  have  pursued 
strong  measures  ;  if  it  were  not  just,  it  was  at  least  natural, 
that  the  constituents  should  connive  at  all  their  proceedings ; 
because  we  were  ourselves  ultimately  to  profit.  But  when 
this  submission  is  urged  to  us,  in  a  contest  between  the  rep- 
resentatives and  ourselves,  and  where  nothing  can  be  put  in- 
to their  scale  which  is  not  taken  from  ours,  they  fancy  us 
to  be  children  when  they  tell  us  they  are  our  representatives, 
our  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  that  all  the  stripes  they  give 
us  are  for  our  good.  The  very  desire  of  that  body  to  have 
such  a  trust  contrary  to  law  reposed  in  tli^m,  shews  that  they 
are  not  worthy  of  it.  They  certainly  will  abuse  it  ;  because 
all  men  possessed  of  an  uncontrouled  discretionary  power 
leading  to  the  aggrandizement  and  profit  of  their  own  body 
have  always  abused  it  :  and  I  see  no  particular  sanctity  in 
our  times,  that  is  at  all  likely,  by  a  miraculous  operation,  to 
overrule  the  course  of  nature. 

But  we  must  purposely  shut  our  eyes,  if  we  consider  this 
matter  merely  as  a  contest  between  the  house  of  commons 
and  the  electors.  The  true  contest  is  between  the  electors  of 
the  kingdom  and  the  crown  5  the  crown  acting  by  an  instru- 
mental house  of  commons.  It  is  precisely  the  same,  wheth- 
er the  ministers  of  the  crown  can  disqualify  by  a  dependent 
house  of  commons,  or  by  a  dependent  court  of  star  chamber, 
or  by  a  dependent  court  of  king's  bench.  If  once  members 
of  parliament  can  be  practically  convinced,  that  they  do  not 
depend  on  the  affection  or  opinion  of  the  people  for  their  po- 


/ 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  4O7 

litical  being,  they  will  give  themselves  over,  without  even  an 
appearance  of  reserve,  to  the  influence  of  the  court. 

Indeed,  a  parhament  unconnected  with  the  people,  is  essen- 
tial to  a  ministry  unconnected  with  the  people  j  and  there- 
fore those  who  saw  through  what  mighty  difficulties  the  in- 
teriour  ministry  waded,  and  the  exterior  were  dragged,  in 
this  business,  will  conceive  of  what  prodigious  importance,  the 
new  corps  of  king^s  men  held  this  principle  of  occasional  and 
personal  incapacitation,  to  the  whole  body  of  their  design. 

When  the  house  of  commons  was  thus  made  to  consider 
itself  as  the  master  of  its  constituents,  there  wanted  but  one 
thing  to  secure  that  house  against  all  possible  future  devia- 
tion towards  popularity  •,  an  unlimited  fund  of  money  to  be 
laid  out  according  to  the  pleasure  of  the  court. 

To  complete  the  scheme  of  bringing  our  court  to  a  resem- 
blance to  the  neighbouring  monarchies,  it  was  necessary,  in 
eBer;:,  to  destroy  those  appropriations  of  revenue,  which 
seera  to  limit  the  property,  as  the  other  laws  had  done  the 
powers,  of  the  crown.  An  opportunity  for  this  purpose  was 
taken,  upon  an  application  to  parliament  for  payment  of  the 
debts  of  the  civil  list;  which  in  1769  had  amounted  to 
513,000/.  Such  application  had  been  made  upon  former  occa- 
sions j  but  to  do  it  in  the  former  manner  would  by  no  means 
answer  the  present  purpose. 

Whenever  the  crown  had  come  to  the  commons  to  desire 
a  supply  for  the  discharging  of  debts  due  on  the  civil  list ;  it 
was  always  asked  and  granted  with  one  of  the  three  follow- 
ing qualifications  ;  sometimes  with  all  of  them.  Either  it 
was  stated,  that  the  revenue  had  been  diverted  from  its  pur»- 
poses  by  parliament  •,  or  that  those  duties  had  fallen  short  of 
the  sum  for  which  they  were  given  by  parliament,  and  that 
the  intention  of  the  legislature  had  not  been  fulfilled  ;  or  that 
the  money  required  to  discharge  the  civil  list  debt,  was  to  be 
raised  chargeable  on  the  civil  list  duties.  In  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne,  the  crown  was  found  in  debt.  The  lessening 
and  granting  away  some  part  of  her  revenue  by  parliament 
was  alleged  as  the  cause  of  that  debt,  and  pleaded  as  an  equi- 
table ground,  such  it  certainly  was,  for  disharging  it.  It  docs 
not  appear  that  the  duties  which  were  then  applied  to  the  or- 


408  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

dinary  government  produced  clear  above  580,000/.  a  year; 
because,  when  they  were  afterwards  granted  to  George  the 
First,  120,000/.  was  added,  to  complete  the  whole  to 
700,000/.  a  year.  Indeed  it  was  then  asserted,  and,  I  have  no 
doubt,  truly,  that  for  many  years  the  net  produce  did  not 
amount  to  above  5  j 0,000/.  The  Queen's  extraordinary 
charges  were  besides  very  considerable  j  equal,  at  least,  to 
any  we  have  known  in  our  time.  The  application  to  parlia- 
ment was  not  for  an  absolute  grant  of  money ;  but  to  em- 
power the  Queen  to  raise  it  by  borrowing  upon  the  civil  list 
funds. 

The  civil  list  debt  was  twice  paid  in  the  reign  of  George 
the  First.  The  money  was  granted  upon  the  same  plan 
which  had  been  followed  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne.  The 
civil  list  revenues  were  then  mortgaged  for  the  sum  to  be 
raised,  and  stood  charged  with  the  ransom  of  their  own  de- 
liverance. 

George  the  second  received  an  addition  to  his  civil  list. 
Duties  were  granted  for  the  purpose  of  raising  800,000/.  a 
year.  It  was  not  until  he  had  reigned  nineteen  years,  and 
after  the  last  rebellion,  that  he  called  upon  parliament  for  a 
discharge  of  the  civil  list  debt.  The  extraordinary  charges 
brought  on  by  the  rebellion,  account  fully  for  the  necessities 
of  the  crown.  However,  the  extraordinary  charges  of  gov- 
ernment were  not  thought  a  ground  fit  to  be  relied  on. 

A  deficiency  of  the  civil  list  duties  for  several  years  before, 
was  stated  as  the  principal,  if  not  the  sole,  ground  on  which 
an  application  to  parliament  could  be  justified.  About  this 
time  the  produce  of  these  duties  had  fallen  pretty  low ;  and 
even  upon  an  average  of  the  whole  reign  they  never  produ- 
ced 800,000/.  a  year  clear  to  the  treasury. 

That  prince  reigned  fourteen  years  afterwards  :  not  only 
no  new  demands  were  made  ;  but  with  so  much  good  order 
were  his  revenues  and  expences  regulated,  that,  although 
many  parts  of  the  establishment  of  the  court  were  upon  a 
larger  and  more  liberal  scale  than  they  have  been  since,  there 
was  a  considerable  sum  in  hand,  on  his  decease,  amounting 
to  about  170,000/.  applicable  to  the  service  of  the  civil  list  of 
his  present  majesty.     So  that,  if  this  reign  commenced  witk 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  409 

a  greater  charge  than  usual,  there  was  enough,  and  more  than 
enough,  abundantly  to  supply  all  the  extraordinary  expence. 
That  the  civil  list  should  have  been  exceeded  in  the  two  for- 
mer reigns,  especially  in  the  reign  of  George  the  First,  was 
not  at  all  surprising.  His  revenue  was  but  700,000/.  annu- 
ally ;  if  it  ever  produced  so  much  clear.  The  prodigious  and 
dangerous  disaffection  to  the  very  being  of  the  establishment, 
and  the  cause  of  a  pretender  then  powerfully  abetted  from 
abroad,  produced  many  demands  of  an  extraordinary  nature 
both  abroad  and  at  home.  Much  management  and  great 
expences  were  necessary.  But  the  throne  of  no  prince  has 
stood  upon  more  unshaken  foundations  than  that  of  his  pres- 
ent majesty. 

To  have  exceeded  the  sum  given  for^the  civil  list,  and  to 
have  Incurred  a  debt  without  special  authority  of  parliament, 
VfiiS^  prima  facie,  a  criminal  act :  as  such,  ministers  ought  nat- 
urally rather  to  have  withdrawn  it  from  the  inspection,  than 
to  have  exposed  it  to  the  scrutiny,  of  parliament.  Certainly 
they  ought,  of  themselves,  officially  to  have  come  armed  with 
every  sort  of  argument,  which,  by  explaining,  could  excuse, 
a  matter  in  itself  of  presumptive  guilt.  But  the  terrours  of 
the  house  of  commons  are  no  longer  for  ministers. 

On  the  other  hand  the  peculiar  character  of  the  house  of 
commons,  as  trustee  of  the  publick  purse,  would  have  led  them 
to  call  with  a  punctilious  solicitude  for  every  publick  account, 
and  to  have  examined  Into  them  with  the  most  rigorous  ac- 
curacy. 

The  capital  use  of  an  account  is,  that  the  reality  of  the 
charge,  the  reason  of  Incurring  It,  and  the  justice  and  neces- 
sity of  discharging  it,  should  all  appear  antecedent  to  the 
payment.  No  man  ever  pays  first,  and  calls  for  his  account 
afterwards  ;  because  he  would  thereby  let  out  of  his  hands 
the  principal,  and  Indeed  only  effectual,  means  of  compelling 
a  full  and  fair  one.  But,  In  national  business,  there  Is  an 
additional  reason  for  a  previous  production  of  every  account. 
It  Is  a  check,  perhaps  the  only  one,  upon  a  corrupt  and  prod- 
igal use  of  publick  money.  An  account  after  payment  is  to 
no  rational  purpose  an  account.  However,  the  house  of 
commons  thought  all  these  to  be  antiquated  principles  j  they 

Vol.  I.  F  F  f 


410  THOUGI-rrs  ON  THE  CAUSL  Oi' 

were  of  opinion,  that  the  most  parUamentary  way  of  pro- 
ceeding was,  to  pay  first  what  the  court  tliought  proper  to 
demand,  and  to  take  its  chance  for  an  examination  into  acr 
counts  at  some  time  of  greater  leisure. 

The  nation  had  settled  800,000/.  a  year  on  the  crown,  as 
sufficient  for  the  support  of  its  dignity,  upon  the  estimate  of 
its  own  ministers.  When  ministers  came  to  parliament,  and 
said  that  this  allowance  had  not  been  sufficient  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  that  they  had  incurred  a  debt  of  500,000/.  would 
it  not  have  been  natural  for  parliament  first  to  have  asked, 
how,  and  by  what  means,  their  appropriated  allowance  came 
to  be  insufficient  ?  Would  it  not  have  savoured  of  some  at- 
tention to  justice,  to  have  seen  in  what  periods  of  adminis- 
tration this  debt  had  been  originally  incurred  •,  that  they 
might  discover,  and,  if  need  were,  animadvert  on  the  per- 
sons who  were  found  the  most  culpable  ?  To  put  their  hands 
upon  such  articles  of  expenditure  as  they  thought  improper 
or  excessive,  and  to  secure,  in  future,  against  such  misappli- 
cation or  exceeding  ?  Accounts  for  any  other  purposes  are 
buta  matter  of  curiosity,  and  no  genuine  parliamentary  ob- 
ject. All  the  accounts  which  could  answer  any  parliamenta- 
ry end  were  refused,  or  postponed  by  previous  questions. 
Every  idea  of  prevention  was  rejected,  as  conveying  an  im- 
proper suspicion  of  the  ministers  of  the  crown. 

When  every  leading  account  had  been  refused,  many  oth- 
ers were  granted  with  sufficient  facility. 

But  with  great  candour  also,  the  house  was  informed,  that 
hardly  any  of  them  could  be  ready  until  the  next  session ; 
some  of  them  perhaps  not  so  soon.  But,  in  order  firmly  to 
establish  the  precedent  o^ payment  previous  to  account ^  and  to 
form  it  into  a  settled  rule  of  the  house,  the  god  in  the  ma- 
chine was  brought  down,  nothing  less  than  the  wonder- 
working latv  of  parliament.  It  was  alleged,  that  it  is  the 
law  of  parliament,  when  any  demand  comes  from  the  crown, 
that  the  house  must  go  immediately  into  the  committee  of 
supply  -,  in  which  committee  it  was  allowed,  that  the  pro- 
duction and  examination  of  accounts  would  be  quite  proper 
and  regular.  It  was  therefore  carried,  that  they  should  go 
into  the  committee  without  delay,  and  without  accounts,  in 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  -ill 

order  to  examine  with  great  order  and  regularity  things  that 
could  not  possibly  come  before  them.  After  this  stroke  of 
orderly  and  parliamentary  wit  and  humour,  they  went 
into  the  committee  ;  and  very  generously  voted  the  pay- 
ment. 

There  was  a  circumstance  in  that  debate  too  remarkable  to 
be  overlooked.  This  debt  of  the  civil  list  was  all  along  ar- 
gued upon  the  same  footing  as  a  debt  of  the  state,  contracted 
upon  national  authority.  Its  payment  was  urged  as  equally 
pressing  upon  the  publick  faith  and  honour  :  and  when  the 
whole  year's  account  was  stated,  in  what  is  called  the  biidgety 
the  ministry  valued  themselves  on  the  payment  of  so  much 
publick  debt,  just  as  if  they  had  discharged  500,000/.  of  na- 
vy or  exchequer  bills.  Though,  in  truth,  their  payment, 
from  the  sinking  fund,  of  debt  which  was  never  contracted 
by  parliamentary  authority,  was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
so  much  debt  incurred.  But  such  is  the  present  notion  of 
publick  credit,  and  payment  of  debt.  No  Avonder  that  it 
produces  such  effects. 

Nor  was  the  house  at  all  more  attentive  to  a  provident  secu- 
rity against  future,  than  it  had  been  to  a  vindictive  retrospect 
to  past,  mismanagements.  I  should  have  thought  indeed  that 
a  ministerial  promise,  during  their  own  continuance  in  office, 
might  have  been  given,  though  this  would  have  been  but  a 
poor  security  for  the  publick.  Mr.  Pelham  gave  such  an  as- 
£  ranee,  and  he  kept  his  word.  But  nothing  was  capable  of 
extorting  from  our  ministers  any  thing  which  had  the  least 
resemblance  to  a  promise  of  confining  the  expences  of  the 
civil  list  within  the  limits  which  had  been  settled  by  parlia- 
ment. This  reserve  of  theirs  I  look  upon  to  be  equivalent 
to  the  clearest  declaration,  that  they  were  resolved  upon  a 
contrary  course. 

However,  to  put  the  matter  beyond  all  doubt,  in  the 
speech  from  the  throne,  after  thanking  parliament  for  the 
relief  so  liberally  granted,  the  ministers  inform  the  two 
houses,  that  they  will  endeavour  to  confine  the  expences  of 
the  civil  government — within  what  limits,  think  you  ?  those 
which  the  law  had  prescribed  ?  Not  in  the  least — "  such 
limits  as  the  honour  of  the  crown  can  possibly  admit." 


4.12  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

Thus  they  established  an  arbitrary  standard  for  that  digni- 
ty which  parhament  had  defined  and  Umited  to  a  legal  stand- 
ard. They  gave  themselves,  under  the  lax  and  indeterminate 
idea  of  the  honour  of  the  croion^  a  full  loose  for  all  manner  of 
dissipation,  and  all  manner  of  corruption.  This  arbitrary 
standard  they  were  not  afraid  to  hold  out  to  both  houses  % 
while  an  idle  and  unoperative  act  of  parliament,  estimating 
the  dignity  of  the  crown  at  800,000/.  and  confining  it  to  that 
sum,  adds  to  the  number  of  obsolete  statutes  which  load  the 
shelves  of  libraries  without  any  sort  of  advantage  to  the  people. 

After  this  proceeding,  I  suppose  that  no  man  can  be  so 
weak  as  to  think  that  the  crown  is  limited  to  any  settled  al- 
lowance whatsoever.  For  if  the  ministry  has  800,000/.  a 
year  by  the  laAv  of  the  land  \  and  if  by  the  law  of  parliament 
all  the  debts  which  exceed  it  are  to  be  paid  previous  to  the 
production  of  any  account  ;  I  presume  that  this  is  equivalent 
to  an  income  with  no  other  limits  than  the  abilities  of  the 
subject  and  the  moderation  of  the  court ;  that  is  to  say,  it 
is  such  an  income  as  is  possessed  by  every  absolute  monarch 
in  Europe.  It  amounts,  as  a  person  of  great  ability  said  in 
the  debate,  to  an  unlimited  power  of  drawing  upon  the  sink- 
ing fund.  Its  effect  on  the  publick  credit  of  this  kingdom 
must  be  obvious  ;  for  in  vain  is  the  sinking  fund  the  great 
buttress  of  all  the  rest,  if  it  be  in  the  power  of  the  ministry 
to  resort  to  it  for  the  payment  of  any  debts  which  they  may 
choose  to  incur,  under  the  name  of  the  civil  list,  and  through 
the  medium  of  a  committee,  which  thinks  itself  obliged  by 
law  to  vote  supplies  without  any  other  account  than  that  of 
the  mere  existence  of  the  debt. 

Five  hundred  thousand  pounds  is  a  serious  sum.  But  it  is 
nothing  to  the  prolifick  principle  upon  which  the  sum  was 
voted  :  a  principle  that  may  be  well  called,  the  fruitful  moth- 
er of  an  hundred  more.  Neither  is  the  damage  to  publick 
credit  of  very  great  consequence,  when  compared  with  that 
which  results  to  publick  morals  and  to  the  safety  of  the  con- 
stitution, from  the  exhaustless  mine  of  corruption  opened  by 
the  precedent,  and  to  be  wrought  by  the  principle,  of  the 
late  payment  of  the  debts  of  the  civil  list.  The  power  of 
discretionary  disqualification  by  one  law  of  parliament,  and 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  413 

the  necessity  of  paying  every  debt  of  the  civil  list  by  another 
law  of  parliament,  if  suffered  to  pass  unnoticed,  must  es- 
tablish such  a  fund  of  rewards  and  terrours  as  will  make  par- 
liament the  best  appendage  and  support  of  arbitrary  power 
that  ever  was  invented  by  the  wit  of  man.  This  is  felt. 
The  quarrel  is  begun  between  the  representatives  and  the 
people.     The  court  faction  have  at  length  committed    them. 

In  such  a  strait  the  wisest  may  well  be  perplexed,  and  the 
boldest  staggered.  The  circumstances  are  in  a  great  measure 
new.  We  have  hardly  any  land-marks  from  the  wisdom  of 
our  ancestors,  to  guide  us.  At  best  we  can  only  follow  the 
spirit  of  their  proceeding  in  other  cases.  I  know  the  dili- 
gence with  which  my  observations  on  our  publick  disorders 
have  been  made  5  I  am  very  sure  of  the  integrity  of  the 
motives  on  which  they  are  published  :  I  cannot  be  equally 
confident  in  any  plan  for  the  absolute  cure  of  those  disorders, 
or  for  their  certain  future  prevention.  My  aim  is  to  bring 
this  matter  into  more  publick  discussion.  Let  the  sagacity 
of  others  work  upon  it.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  medical 
writers  to  describe  histories  of  diseases  very  accurately,  on 
whose  cure  they  can  say  but  very  little.  * 

The  first  ideas  which  generally  suggest  themselves,  for 
the  cure  of  parliamentary  disorders,  are,  to  shorten  the  du- 
ration of  parliaments  ;  and  to  disqualify  all,  or  a  great  num- 
ber of  placemen,  from  a  seat  in  the  house  of  commons. 
Whatever  efficacy  there  may  be  in  those  remedies,  I  am 
sure  in  the  present  state  of  things  it  is  impossible  to  apply 
them.  A  restoration  of  the  right  of  free  election  is  a  pre- 
liminary indispensable  to  every  other  reformation.  What 
alterations  ought  afterwards  to  be  made  in  the  constitution, 
is  a  matter  of  deep  and  difficult  research. 

If  I  wrote  merely  to  please  the  popular  palate,  it  would  in- 
deed be  as  little  troublesome  to  me  as  to  another,  to  extol 
these  remedies,  so  famous  in  speculation,  but  to  which  their 
greatest  admirers  have  never  attempted  seriously  to  resort  in 
practice.  I  confess  then,  that  I  have  no  sort  of  reliance  up- 
on either  a  triennial  parliament,  or  a  place-bill.  With  regard 
to  the  former,  perhaps  it  might  rather  serve  to  counteract, 
than  to  promote  the  ends  that  are  proposed  by  it.     To  say 


414  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

I  nothing  of  the  horrible  disorders  among  the  people  attend- 
ing frequent  elections,  I  should  be  fearful  of  committing,  ev- 
ery three  years,  the  independent  gentlemen  of  the  country 
into  a  contest  with  the  treasury.  It  is  easy  to  see  which  of 
the  contending  parties  would  be  ruined  first.  Whoever  has 
taken  a  careful  view  of  publick  proceedings,  so  as  to  endeav- 
our to  ground  his  speculations  on  his  experience,  must  have 
observed  how  prodigiously  greater  the  poAver  of  ministry  is  in 
the  first  and  last  session  of  a  parliament,  than  it  is  in  the  in- 
termediate period,  when  members  sit  a  little  firm  on  their 
seats.  The  persons  of  the  greatest  parliamentary  experience, 
with  whom  I  have  conversed,  did  constantly,  in  canvassing 
the  fate  of  questions,  allow  something  to  the  court  side,  upon 
account  of  the  elections  depending  or  imminent.  The  evil 
complained  of,  if  it  exists  in  the  present  state  of  things, 
would  hardly  be  removed  by  a  triennial  parliament  :  for,  un- 
less the  influence  of  government  in  elections  can  be  entirely 
taken  away,  the  more  frequently  they  return,  the  more  they 
will  harrass  private  independence  -,  the  more  generally  men 
will  be  compelled  to  fly  to  the  settled  systematick  interest  of 
government,  and  to  the  resources  of  a  boundless  civil  list. 
Certainly  something  may  be  done,  and  ought  to  be  done,  to- 
wards lessening  that  influence  in  elections  ;  and  this  will  be 
necessary  upon  a  plan  either  of  longer  or  shorter  duration  of 
parliament.  But  nothing  can  so  perfectly  remove  the  evil, 
as  not  to  render  such  contentions,  too  frequently  repeated, 
utterly  ruinous,  first  to  independence  of  fortune,  and  then  to 
independence  of  spirit.  As  I  am  only  giving  an  opinion  on 
this  point,  and  not  at  all  debating  it  in  an  adverse  line,  I  hope 
I  may  be  excused  in  another  observation.  With  great  truth 
I  may  aver,  that  I  never  remember  to  have  talked  on  this  sub- 
ject with  any  man  much  conversant  with  publick  business, 
who  considered  short  parliaments  as  a  real  improvement  of 
the  constitution.  Gentlemen,  warm  in  a  popular  cause,  are 
ready  enough  to  attribute  all  the  declarations  of  such  persons 
to  corrupt  motives.  But  the  habit  of  afi^airs,  if,  on  one  hand, 
it  tends  to  corrupt  the  mind,  furnishes  it,  on  the  other,  with 
the  means  of  better  information.  The  authority  of  such  per- 
sons will  always  have  some  weight.     It  may  stand  upon  a  par 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  .1.15 

with  the  speculations  of  those  who  are  less  practised  in  busi- 
ness ;  and  who,  with  perhaps  purer  intentions,  have  not  so 
effectual  means  of  judging.  It  is,  besides,  an  effect  of  vulgar 
and  peurile  malignity  to  imagine,  that  every  statesman  is  of 
course  corrupt  ;  and  tliat  his  opinion,  upon  every  constitu- 
tional point,  is  solely  formed  upon  some  sinister  interest. 

The  next  favourite  remedy  is  a  place-bill.  The  same  prin- 
ciple guides  in  both  ;  I  mean,  the  opinion  which  is  entertain- 
ed by  many,  of  the  infallibility  of  laws  and  regulations,  in  the 
cure  of  publick  distempers.  Without  being  as  unreasonably 
doubtful  as  many  are  unwisely  confident,  I  will  only  say,  that 
this  also  is  a  matter  very  well  worthy  of  serious  and  mature 
reflection.  It  is  not  easy  to  foresee,  what  the  effect  would  be, 
of  disconnecting  with  parliament,  the  greatest  part  of  those 
who  hold  civil-employments,  and  of  such  mighty  and  impor- 
tant bodies  as  the  military  and  naval  establishments.  It  were 
better,  perhaps,  that  they  should  have  a  corrupt  interest  in 
the  forms  of  the  constitution,  than  that  they  should  have 
none  at  all.  This  is  a  question  altogether  different  from  the 
disqualification  of  a  particular  description  of  revenue  officers 
from  seatsin  parliament  •,  or,  perhaps,  of  all  the  lower  sorts  of 
them  from  votes  in  elections.  In  the  former  case,  only  the 
few  are  affected  •,  in  the  latter,  only  the  inconsiderable.  But 
a  great  official,  a  great  professional,  a  great  military  and  na- 
val interest,  all  necessarily  comprehending  many  people  of 
the  first  weight,  ability,  wealth,  and  spirit,  has  been  gradual- 
ly formed  in  the  kingdom.  These  new  interests  must  be  let 
into  a  share  of  representation,  else  possibly  they  may  be  in- 
clined to  destroy  those  institutions  of  which  they  are  not  per- 
mitted to  partake.  This  is  not  a  thing  to  be  trifled  with  ; 
nor  is  it  every  well-meaning  man,  that  is  fit  to  put  his  hands 
to  it.  Many  other  serious  considerations  occur.  I  do  not 
open  them  here,  because  they  are  not  directly  to  my  purpose  ; 
proposing  only  to  give  the  reader  some  taste  of  the  difficul- 
ties that  attend  all  capital  changes  in  the  constitution  ;  just 
to  hint  the  uncertainty,  to  say  no  worse,  of  being  able  to  pre- 
vent the  court,  as  long  as  it  has  the  means  of  influence  abun- 
dantly in  its  power,  of  applying  that  influence  to  parfiament  ; 
and  perhaps,  if  the  publick  method  were  precluded,  of  doing 


41  (j  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

It  in  some  wore  and  more  dangerous  method.  Underhand 
and  oblique  ways  would  be  studied.  The  science  of  evasion, 
already  tolerably  understood,  would  then  be  brought  to  the 
greatest  perfection.  It  is  no  inconsiderable  part  of  wisdom, 
to  know  how  much  of  an  evil  ought  to  be  tolerated  ;  lest,  by 
attempting  a  degree  of  purity  impracticable  in  degenerate 
times  and  manners,  instead  of  cutting  off  the  subsisting  ill 
practices,  new  corruptions  might  be  produced  for  the  conceal- 
ment and  security  of  the  old.  It  were  better,  undoubtedly, 
that  no  influence  at  all  could  affect  the  mind  of  a  member  of 
parliament.  But  of  all  the  modes  of  influence,  in  my  opin- 
ion, a  place  under  the  government  is  the  least  disgraceful  to 
the  man  who  holds  it,  and  bv  far  the  most  safe  to  the  coun- 
try.  I  would  not  shut  out  that  sort  of  Influence  which  is  open 
and  visible,  whichis  connected  with  the  dignity  and  the  service 
of  the  state,  when  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  prevent  the  influ- 
ence of  contracts,  of  subscriptions,  of  direct  bribery,  and  those 
Innumerable  methods  of  clandestine  corruption,  which  are 
abundantly  in  the  hands  of  the  court,  and  which  will  be  ap- 
plied as  long  as  these  means  of  corruption,  and  the  dis- 
position to  be  corrupted,  have  existence  amongst  us.  Our 
constitution  stands  on  a  nice  equipoise,  with  steep  pre- 
cipices and  deep  waters  upon  all  sides  of  it.  In  removing  It 
from  a  dangerous  leaning  towards  one  side,  there  may  be  a 
risk  of  oversetting  it  on  the  other.  Every  project  of  a  ma- 
terial change  in  a  government  so  complicated  as  ours,  com- 
bined at  the  same  time  with  external  circumstances  still 
more  complicated,  is  a  matter  full  of  diiEcultles  ;  in  which 
a  considerate  man  will  not  be  too  ready  to  decide  j  a  prudent 
man  too  ready  to  undertake  ;  or  an  honest  man  too  ready  to 
promise.  They  do  not  respect  the  publick  nor  themselves, 
who  engage  for  more,  than  they  are  sure  that  they  ought  to 
attempt,  or  that  they  are  able  to  perform.  These  are  my 
sentiments,  weak  perhaps,  but  honest  and  unbiassed  •,  and 
submitted  entirely  to  the  opinion  of  grave  men,  Avell  affect- 
ed to  the  constitution  of  their  country,  and  of  experience  in 
what  may  best  promote  or  hurt  It. 

Indeed,  in  the  situation  in  which  we  stand,  with  an  immense 
i-evenue,  an  enormous  debt,  mighty  establishments,  govern- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  417 

ment  itself  a  great  banker  and  a  great  merchant,  I  see  no 
other  way  for  the  preservation  of  a  decent  attention  to  pub- 
lick  interest  in  the  representatives,  but  the  interposition  of  the 
body  of  the  people  itself  whenever  it  shall  appear,  by  some 
flagrant  and  notorious  act,  by  some  capital  innovation,  that 
these  representatives  are  going  to  over-leap  the  fences  of  the 
law,  and  to  introduce  an  arbitrary  power.  This  interposition 
is  a  most  unpleasant  remedy.  But,  if  it  be  a  legal  remedy,  it 
is  intended  on  some  occasion  to  be  used  ;  to  be  used  then 
only,  when  it  is  evident  that  nothing  else  can  hold  the  con- 
stitution to  its  true   principles. 

The  distempers  of  monarchy  were  the  great  subjects  of 
apprehension  and  redress,  in  the  last  century  ;  in  this,  the 
distempers  of  parliament.  It  is  not  in  parliament  alone  that 
the  remedy  for  parliamentary  disorders  can  be  compleated  j 
hardly  indeed  can  it  begin  there.  Until  a  confidence  in  gov- 
ernment is  re-established,  the  people  ought  to  be  excited  to 
a  more  strict  and  detailed  attention  to  the  conduct  of  their 
representatives.  Standards,  for  judging  more  systematically 
upon  their  conduct,  ought  to  be  settled  in  the  meetings  of 
counties  and  corporations.  Frequent  and  correct  lists  of  the 
voters  in  all  important  questions  ought  to  be  procured. 

By  such  means  something  may  be  done.  By  such  means 
it  may  appear  who  those  are,  that,  by  an  indiscriminate  sup- 
port of  all  adminlstratiojis,  have  totally  banished  all  integrity 
and  confidence  out  of  publick  proceedings  j  have  confound- 
ed the  best  men  with  the  worst  ;  and  weakened  and  dissolv- 
ed, instead  of  strengthening  and  compacting,  the  general 
frame  of  government.  If  any  person  is  more  concerned  for 
government  and  order,  than  for  the  liberties  of  his  country  j 
even  he  is  equally  concerned  to  put  an  end  to  this  course  of 
indiscriminate  support.  It  is  this  blind  and  undistinguishing 
support,  that  feeds  the  spring  of  those  very  disorders,  by 
which  he  is  frighted  into  the  arms  of  the  faction  which  con- 
tains in  itself  the  source  of  all  disorders,  by  enfeebling  all  the 
visible  and  regular  authority  of  the  state.  The  distemper  is 
increased  by  his  injudicious  and  preposterous  endeavours,  or 
pretences,  for  the  cure  of  it. 

Vol.  I.  G  G  g         ^ 


418  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

An  exterior  administration,  chosen  for  its  impotency,  or 
after  it  is  chosen  purposely  rendered  impotent,  in  order  to 
be  rendered  subservient,  will  not  be  obeyed.  The  lawi 
themselves  will  not  be  respected,  when  those  who  execute 
them  are  despised  5  and  they  will  be  despised,  when  their 
power  is  not  immediate  from  the  crown,  or  natural  in  the 
kinordom.  Never  were  ministers  better  supported  in  parlia- 
ment. Parliamentary  support  comes  and  goes  with  office, 
totally  regardless  of  the  man,  or  the  merit.  Is  government 
strengthened  ?  It  grows  weaker  and  weaker.  The  popular 
torrent  gains  upon  it  every  hour.  Let  us  learn  from  our  ex- 
perience. It  is  not  support  that  is  wanting  to  government, 
but  reformation.  When  ministry  rests  upon  publick  opinion, 
it  is  not  indeed  built  upon  a  rock  of  adamant  ;  it  has,  how- 
ever, some  stability.  But  when  it  stands  upon  private  hu- 
mour, its  structure  is  of  stubble,  and  its  foundation  is  on 
quicksand.  I  repeat  it  again — He  that  supports  every  ad- 
ministration, subverts  all  government.  The  reason  is  this  : 
The  whole  business  in  which  a  court  usually  takes  an  interest 
goes  on  at  present  equally  well,  in  whatever  hands,  whether 
high  or  low,  wise  or  foolish,  scandalous  or  reputable  •,  there 
is  nothing  therefore  to  hold  it  firm  to  any  one  body  of  men, 
or  to  any  one  consistent  scheme  of  politicks.  Nothing  in- 
terposes, to  prevent  the  full  operation  of  all  the  caprices  and 
all  the  passions  of  a  court  upon  the  servants  of  the  publick. 
The  system  of  administration  is  open  to  continual  shocks  and 
changes,  upon  the  principles  of  the  meanest  cabal,  and  the 
most  contemptible  intrigue.  Nothing  can  be  solid  and  per- 
manent. All  good  men  at  length  fly  with  horrour  from 
such  a  service.  Men  of  rank  and  ability,  with  the  spirit 
which  ought  to  animate  such  men  in  a  free  state,  while  they 
decline  the  jurisdiction  of  dark  cabal  on  their  actions  and 
their  fortunes,  will,  for  both,  chearfully  put  themselves  upon 
their  country.  They  will  trust  an  inquisitive  and  distinguish- 
ing parliament ;  because  it  does  enquire,  and  does  distinguish. 
If  they  act  well,  they  know,  that  in  such  a  parliament,  they 
will  be  supported  against  any  intrigue  -,  if  they  act  ill,  they 
know  that  no  intrigue  can  protect  them.  This  situation, 
however  awful,  is  honourable.     But  in  one  hour,  and  in  the 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  419 

self-same  assembly,  without  any  assigned  or  assignable  cause, 
to  be  precipitated  from  the  highest  authority  to  the  most 
marked  neglect,  possibly  into  the  greatest  peril  of  life  and 
reputation,  is  a  situation  full  of  danger,  and  destitute  of  hon- 
our. It  will  be  shunned  equally  by  every  man  of  prudence, 
and  every  man  of  spirit. 

Such  are  the    consequences  of  the  division  of  court  from 
the  administration  ;    and    of  the  division   of  publick  men 
among  themselves.     By  the  former  of  these,  lawful  govern- 
ment is  undone  ;  by  the  latter,  all  opposition  to  lawless  pow- 
er is  rendered  impotent.     Government  may  in  a  great  meas- 
ure be  restored,  if  any  considerable  bodies  of  men  have  hon- 
esty and  resolution   enough  never   to  accept  administration, 
unless  this  garrison  of  kings  mcn^  which  is  stationed,  as  in  a 
citadel,  to  controul  and  enslave  it,  be  entirely   broken   and 
disbanded,  and  every  work  they  have  thrown  up  be  levelled 
with  the   ground.     The  disposition  of  publick  men  to  keep 
this  corps  together,  and  to  act  under  it,  or  to  co-operate  with 
it,   is  a  touch-stone  by  which  every  administration  ought  in 
future  to  be  tried.     There  has  not  been  one  which  has   not 
sufficiently  experienced  the  utter  incompatibility  of  that  fac- 
tion  with  the  publick  peace,  and  with  all  the  ends  of  good 
government  :  since,  if  they  opposed  it,  they  soon  lost  every 
power  of  serving  the  crown  ;    if  they  submitted  to  it,  they 
lost  all  the  esteem  of  their  country.     Until  ministers  give  to 
the  publick  a  full  proof  of  their  entire  alienation  from  that 
system,  however  plausible  their  pretences,  we  may  be  sure 
they  are  more  intent  on  the   emoluments  than  the  duties  of 
office.     If  they  refuse  to   give  this  proof,  we  knoAv  of  what 
stuff  they  are  made.     In  this   particular,  it   ought  to  be  the 
electors'  business  to  look  to  their  representatives.     The  elec- 
tors ought  to  esteem  it  no  less  culpable  in  their  member  to 
give  a  single  vote   in  parliament  to  such  an   administration, 
than  to  take  an  office  under  it ;  to  endure  it,  than  to  act  in 
it. ,    The  notorious  infidelity  and  versatility  of  members   of 
parliament,  in   their  opinions  of  men  and   things,  ought  in  a 
particular    manner  to  be    considered  by  the  electors  in  the 
enquiry  which  is  recommended  to  them.     This  is  one  of  the 
principal   holdings   of  that  destructive  system,  which  has 


426  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

endeavoured  to  unhinge  all  the  virtuous,  honourable,  and  use- 
ful connexions  in  the  kingdom. 

This  cabal  has,  with  great  success,  propagated  a  doctrine 
which  serves  for  a  colour  to  those  acts  of  treachery  •,  and 
whilst  it  receives  any  degree  of  countenance,  it  will  be  ut- 
terly senseless  to  look  for  a  vigorous  opposition  to  the  court 
party.  The  doctrine  is  this  :  That  all  political  connexions 
are  in  their  nature  factious,  and  as  such  ought  to  be  dissipat- 
ed and  destroyed  ;  and  that  the  rule  for  forming  adminis- 
trations is  mere  personal  ability,  rated  by  the  judgment  of 
this  cabal  upon  it,  and  taken  by  draughts  from  every  divis- 
ion and  denomination  of  publick  men.  This  decree  was 
solemnly  promulgated  by  the  head  of  the  court  corps,  the 
Earl  of  Bute  himself,  in  a  speech  which  he  made,  in  the  year 
1766,  against  the  then  administration,  the  only  administra- 
tion which  he  has  ever  been  known  directly  and  publickly 
to  oppose. 

It  is  indeed  in  no  way  wonderful,  that  such  persons  should 
make  such  declarations.  That  connexion  and  faction  are 
equivalent  terms,  is  an  opinion  which  has  been  carefully  in- 
culcated at  all  times  by  unconstitutional  statesmen.  The 
reason  is  evident.  Whilst  men  are  linked  together,  they 
easily  and  speedily  communicate  the  alarm  of  any  evil  de- 
sign. They  are  enabled  to  fathom  it  with  common  counsel, 
and  to  oppose  it  with  united  strength.  Whereas,  when  they 
lie  dispersed,  without  concert,  order,  or  discipline,  commu- 
nication is  uncertain,  counsel  difficult,  and  resistance  im- 
practicable. Where  men  are  not  acquainted  with  each  oth- 
er's principles  nor  experienced  in  each  other's  talents,  nor  at 
all  practised  in  their  mutual  habitudes  and  dispositions  by 
joint  efforts  in  business  ;  no  personal  confidence,  no  friend- 
ship, no  common  interest,  subsisting  among  them ;  it  is  evi- 
dently impossible  that  they  can  act  a  publick  part  with  uni- 
formity, perseverance  or  efficacy.  In  a  connexion,  the  most 
inconsiderable  man,  by  adding  to  the  weight  of  the  whole, 
has  his  value,  and  his  use  •,  out  of  it,  the  greatest  talents  are 
wholly  unserviceable  to  the  publick.  No  man,  who  is  not 
inflamed  by  vain-glory  into  enthusiasm,  can  flatter  himself 
that  his  single,  unsupported,  desultory,  unsystematick  en- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  4.01 

deavours  are  of  power  to  defeat  the  subtle  designs  and  unit- 
ed cabals  of  ambitious  citizens.  When  bad  men  combine, 
the  good  must  associate  ;  else  they  will  fall,  one  by  one,  an 
unpitied  sacrifice  in  a  contemptible  struggle. 

It  is  not  enough  in  a  situation  of  trust  in  the  common- 
wealth, that  a  man  means  well  to  his  country  ;  it  is  not 
enough  that  in  his  single  person  he  never  did  an  evil  act,  but 
always  vcedaccording  to  his  conscience,  and  even  harangued 
against  every  design  which  he  apprehended  to  be  prejudicial 
to  the  interests  of  his  country.  This  innoxious  and  inef- 
fectual cliaracter,  that  seems  formed  upon  a  plan  of  apology 
and  disculpation,  falls  miserably  short  of  the  mark  of  publick 
dutv.  That  duty  demands  and  requires,  that  what  is  right 
should  not  only  be  made  known,  but  made  prevalent  j  that 
what  is  evil  should  not  only  be  detected,  but  defeated. 
When  the  publick  man  omits  to  put  himself  in  a  situation  of 
doing  his  duty  with  effect,  it  is  an  omission  that  frustrates 
the  purposes  of  his  trust  almost  as  much  as  if  he  had  formally 
betrayed  it.  It  is  surely  no  very  rational  account  of  a  man's 
life,  that  he  has  always  acted  right  ;  but  has  taken  special 
care,  to  act  in  such  a  manner  that  his  endeavours  could  not 
possibly  be  productive  of  any  consequence. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  the  behaviour  of  many  parties  should 
have  made  persons  of  tender  and  scrupulous  virtue  some- 
what out  of  humour  with  all  sorts  of  connexion  in  politicks. 
I  admit  that  people  frequently  acquire  in  such  confederacies 
a  narrow,  bigotted,  and  proscrlptive  spirit  -,  that  they  are 
apt  to  sink  the  idea  of  the  general  good  in  this  circumscrib- 
ed and  partial  interest.  But,  where  duty  renders  a  critical 
situation  a  necessary  one,  it  is  our  business  to  keep  free  from 
the  evils  attendant  upon  it ;  and  not  to  fly  from  the  situation 
itself.  If  a  fortress  is  seated  in  an  unwholesome  air,  an  offi- 
cer of  the  garrison  is  obliged  to  be  attentive  to  his  health, 
but  he  must  not  desert  his  station.  Every  profession,  not 
excepting  the  glorious  one  of  a  soldier,  or  the  sacred  one  of 
a  priest,  is  liable  to  its  own  particular  vices  •,  which,  howev- 
er, form  no  argument  against  those  ways  of  life  ;  nor  are 
the  vices  themselves  inevitable  to  every  individual  in  those 
professions.     Of  ?urh  a  natur^  are  connexions  in  politicks  ; 


422  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

essentially  necessary  for  the  full  performance  of  our  publick 
duty,  accidentally  liable  to  degenerate  into  faction.  Com- 
monwealths are  made  of  families,  free  commonwealths  of 
parties  also  ;  and  we  may  as  well  affirm,  that  our  natural  re- 
gards and  ties  of  blood  tend  inevitably  to  make  men  bad  cit- 
izens, as  that  the  bonds  of  our  party  weaken  those  by  which 
we  are  held  to  our  country. 

Some  legislators  went  so  far  as  to  make  neutrality  in  party 
a  crime  against  the  state.     I  do  not  know  whether  this  might 
not  have  been  rather  to  overstrain  the  principle.     Certain  it 
is,  the  best  patriots  in  the  greatest  commonwealths  have  al- 
ways commended  and  promoted  such  connexions.     Idemsen-^ 
tire  de  repiiblicay  was  with  them  a  principal  ground  of  friend- 
ship and  aftachment  ;  nor  do  I  know  any  other   capable   of 
forming    firmer,  dearer,   more  pleasing,  more  honourable, 
and  more  virtuous    habitudes.     The    Romans   carried  this 
principle  a  great  way.     Even  the  holding  of  offices  together, 
the  disposition  of  which  arose    from   chance    not  selection, 
gave  rise  to  a  relation  which  continued  for  life.     It  was  call- 
ed necessitudo  sortis  ;  and  it  was  looked  upon    with    a  sacred 
reverence.     Breaches  of  any    of  these    kinds  of    civil   rela- 
tion were  considered  as  acts  of  the  most   distinguished    tur- 
pitude.    The  whole  people  was  distributed  into    political  so- 
cieties, in  which  they  acted  in  support  of  such    interests   in 
the  state  as  they  severally  affected.     For  it  was  then  thought 
no  crime,  to  endeavour  by  every  honest  means  to  advance  to 
superiority  and  power  those  of  your  own   sentiments   and 
opinions.     This  wise  people  was   far  from  imagining   that 
those  connexions  had  no  tie,  and  obliged   to  no  duty  j  but 
that  men  might  quit  them  without  shame,  upon  every  call  of 
interest.     They  believed   private  honour  to  be    the    great 
foundation  of  publick  trust  ;  that  friendship  was    no  mean 
step  towards  patriotism  ;  that  he  who,  in  the  common  inter- 
course of  life,  shewed  he  regarded  somebody  besides  him- 
self, when  he  came  to  act  in  a  publick  situation,  might  prob- 
ably consult  some  other  interest  than  his  own.     Never  may 
we  become  plus  sages  que  les  sages,  as  the  French   comedian 
has  happily  expressed  it,  wiser  than  all    the  wise  and  good 
men  who  have  lived  before  us.     It  was  their   wish,  to  sec 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  423 

publick  and  private  virtues,  not  dissonant  and  jarring,  and 
mutually  destructive,  but  harmoniously  combined,  growing 
out  of  one  another  in  a  noble  and  orderly  gradation,  recip- 
rocally supporting  and  supported.  In  one  of  the  most  for- 
tunate periods  of  our  history  this  country  was  governed  by 
a  connexion  ,-  I  mean  the  great  connexion  of  Whigs  in  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne.  They  were  complimented  upon  the 
principle  of  this  connexion  by  a  poet  who  was  in  high  esteem 
with  them.  Addison,  who  knew  their  sentiments,  could 
not  praise  them  for  what  they  considered  as  no  proper  sub- 
ject of  commendation.  As  a  poet  who  knew  his  business, 
he  could  not  applaud  them  for  a  thing  which  in  general  esti- 
mation was  not  highly  reputable.  Addressing  himself  to 
Britain, 

Thy  favourites  grow  not  up  hy  fortune^  s  sport  f 

Or  from  the  crimes  or  follies  of  a  court. 

On  the  firm  basis  of  desert  they  rise, 

From  long-try^ d  faith)  and  friendship's  holy  ties. 

The  Whigs  of  those  days  believed  that  the  only  proper 
method  of  rising  into  power  was  through  hard  essays  of  prac- 
tised friendship  and  experi/nented  fidelity.  At  that  time  it 
was  not  imagined,  that  patriotism  was  a  bloody  idol,  which 
required  the  sacrifice  of  children  and  parents,  or  dearest 
connexions  in  private  life,  and  of  all  the  virtues  that  rise 
from  those  relations.  They  were  not  of  that  ingenious  par- 
adoxical morality,  to  imagine  that  a  spirit  of  moderation  was 
properly  shewn  in  patiently  bearing  the  sufferings  of  your 
friends  ;  or  that  disinterestedness  was  clearly  manifested  at  the 
expence  of  other  people's  fortune.  They  believed  that  no 
men  could  act  with  effect,  who  did  not  act  in  concert ;  that 
no  men  could  act  in  concert,  who  did  not  act  with  confidence ; 
that  no  men  could  act  with  confidence,  who  were  not  bound 
together  by  common  opinions,  common  affections,  and  com- 
mon interests. 

These  wise  men,  for  such  I  must  call  Lord  Sunderland, 
Ivord  Godolphin,  Lord  Somers,  and  Lord  Marlborough, 
were  too  well  principled  in  these   maxims  upon  which  the 


4,24;  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

whole  fabrick'of  publick  strength  is  built,  to  be  blown  oflf 
their  ground  by  the  breath  of  every  childish  talker.  They 
were  not  afraid  that  they  should  be  called  an  ambitious  Jun- 
to ;  or  that  their  resolution  to  stand  or  fall  together  should, 
by  placemen,  be  interpreted  into  a  scuffle  for  places. 

Party  is  a  body  of  men  united,  for  promoting  by  their  joint 
endeavours  the  national  interest,  upon  some  particular  prin- 
ciple in  which  they  are  all  agreed.  For  my  part,  I  find  it 
impossible  to  conceive,  that  any  one  believes  in  his  own  poli- 
ticks, or  thinks  them  to  be  of  any  weight,  who  refuses  to 
adopt  the  means  of  having  them  reduced  into  practice.  It 
is  the  business  of  the  speculative  philosopher  to  mark  the 
proper  ends  of  government.  It  is  the  business  of  the  poli- 
tician, who  is  the  philosopher  in  action,  to  find  out  proper 
means  towards  those  ends,  and  to  employ  them  with  eifect. 
Therefore  every  honourable  connexion  will  avow  it  is  their 
first  purpose,  to  pursue  every  just  method  to  put  the  men 
who  hold  their  opinions  into  such  a  condition  as  may  enable 
them  to  carry  their  common  plans  into  execution,  with  all 
the  power  and  authority  of  the  state.  As  this  power  is  at- 
tached to  certain  situations,  it  is  their  duty  to  contend  for 
these  situations.  Without  a  proscription  of  others,  they  are 
bound  to  give  to  their  own  party  t^e  preference  in  all  things  j 
and  by  no  means,  for  private  considerations,  to  accept  any 
offers  of  power  in  which  the  whole  body  is  not  included  ; 
nor  to  sufl^er  themselves  to  be  led,  or  to  be  controuled,  or  to 
be  overbalanced,  in  office  or  in  council,  by  those  who  con- 
tradict the  very  fundamental  principles  on  which  their  party 
is  formed,  and  even  those  upon  which  every  fair  connexion 
must  stand.  Such  a  generous  contention  for  power,  on  such 
manly  and  honourable  maxims,  will  easily  be  distinguished 
^rom  the  mean  and  interested  struggle  for  place  and  emolu- 
ment. The  very  stile  of  such  persons  will  serve  to  discrim- 
inate them  from  those  numberless  impostors,  who  have  de- 
luded the  ignorant  with  professions  incompatible  with  human 
practice,  and  have  afterwards  incensed  them  by  practices  be- 
low the  level  of  vulgar  rectitude. 

It  is  an  advantage  to  all  narrow  wisdom  and  narrow  mor- 
als, that  their  maxims  have  a  plausible  air  j  and,  on  a  curse- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  425 

tj  view,  appear  equal  to  first  principles.  They  are  light  and 
portable.  They  are  as  current  as  copper  coin  j  and  about  as 
valuable.  They  serve  equally  the  first  capacities  and  the 
lowest  ;  and  they  are,  at  least,  as  useful  to  the  worst  men  as 
the  best.  Of  this  stamp  is  the  cant  of  Not  men,  but  measures ; 
a  sort  of  charm,  by  which  many  people  get  loose  from  every 
honourable  engagement.  When  I  see  a  man  acting  this  de- 
sultory and  disconnected  part,  with  as  much  detriment  to  his 
own  fortune  as  prejudice  to  the  cause  of  any  party,  I  am 
not  persuaded  that  he  is  right  ;  but  I  am  ready  to  believe  he 
is  in  earnest.  I  respect  virtue  in  all  its  situations  ;  even  when 
it  is  found  in  the  unsuitable  company  of  weakness.  I  lament 
to  see  qualities,  rare  and  valuable,  squandered  away  without 
any  publick  utility.  But  when  a  gentleman  with  great  visi- 
ble emoluments  abandons  the  party  in  which  he  has  long 
acted,  and  tells  you,  it  is  because  he  proceeds  upon  his  own 
judgment  j  that  he  acts  on  the  merits  of  the  several  meas- 
ures as  they  arise  ;  and  that  he  is  obliged  to  follow  his  own 
conscience,  and  not  that  of  others  ;  he  gives  reasons  which 
it  is  impossible  to  controvert,  and  discovers  a  character  which 
it  is  impossible  to  mistake.  What  shall  we  think  of  him 
who  never  differed  from  a  certain  set  of  men  until  the  mo- 
ment they  lost  their  power,  and  who  never  agreed  with  them 
in  a  single  instance  afterwards  ?  Would  not  such  a  coinci- 
dence of  interest  and  opinion  be  rather  fortunate  ?  Would 
it  not  be  an  extraordinary  cast  upon  the  dice,  that  a  man's 
connexions  should  degenerate  into  faction,  precisely  at  the 
critical  moment  when  they  lose  their  power,  or  he  accepts  a 
place  ^  When  people  desert  their  connexions,  the  desertion 
is  a  manifest  y^r/,  upon  which  a  direct  simple  issue  hes,  tria- 
ble by  plain  men.  Whether  a  measure  of  government  be 
right  or  wrong,  is  no  matter  of  fact,  but  a  mere  affair  of  opin- 
ion, on  which  men  may,  as  they  do,  dispute  and  wrangle 
without  end.  But  whether  the  individual  thi7ih  the  measure 
right  or  wrong,  is  a  point  at  still  a  greater  distance  from  the 
reach  of  all  human  decision.  It  is  therefore  very  convenient 
to  politicians,  not  to  put  the  judgment  of  their  conduct  on 
overt-acts,  cognizable  in  any  ordinary  court,  but  upon  such 
matter  as  can  be  triable  only  in  that  secret  tribunal,  where 
Vol.  I.  H  h  h 


426  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

they  are  sure  of  being  heard  with  favour,  or  where  at  worst 
the  sentence  will  be  only  private  whipping. 

I  believe  the  reader  would  wish  to  find  no  substance  in  a 
doctrine  which  has  a  tendency  to  destroy  all  test  of  character 
as  deduced  from  conduct.  He  will  therefore  excuse  my  add- 
ing something  more,  towards  the  further  clearing  up  a  point, 
which  the  great  convenience  of  obscurity  to  dishonesty  has 
been  able  to  cover  with  some  degree  of  darkness  and  doubt. 

In  order  to  throw  an  odium  on  political  connexion,  these 
politcians  suppose  it  a  necessary  incident  to  it,  that  you  are 
blindly  to  follow  the  opinions  of  your  party,  when  in  direct 
opposition  to  your  own  clear  ideas  ;  a  degree  of  servitude 
that  no  worthy  man  could  bear  the  thought  of  submitting  to  ; 
and  such  as,  I  believe,  no  connexions  (except  some  court 
factions)  ever  could  be  so  senselessly  tyrannical  as  to  impose. 
Men  thinking  freely,  will,  in  particular  instances,  think  dif- 
ferently. But  still  as  the  greater  part  of  the  measures  which 
arise  in  the  course  of  publick  business  are  related  to,  or  de- 
pendent on,  some  great  leading  general  principles  in  government^ 
a  man  must  be  peculiarly  unfortunate  in  the  choice  of  his 
political  company  if  he  does  not  agree  with  them  at  least  nine 
times  in  ten.  If  he  does  not  concur  in  these  general  princi- 
ples upon  which  the  party  is  founded,  and  which  necessarily 
draw  on  a  concurrence  in  their  application,  he  ought  from 
the  beginning  to  have  chosen  some  other,  more  conformable 
to  his  opinions.  When  the  question  is  in  its  nature  doubt- 
ful, or  not  Very  material,  the  modesty  which  becomes  an  in- 
dividual, and  (in  spite  of  our  court  moralists)  that  partiality 
which  becomes  a  well-chosen  friendship,  will  frequently  bring 
on  an  acquiescence  in  the  general  sentiment.  Thus  the  dis- 
agreement will  naturally  be  rare  ;  it  will  be  only  enough  to 
indulge  freedom,  without  violating  concord,  or  disturbing 
arrangement.  And  this  is  all  that  ever  was  required  for  a  char- 
acter of  the  greatest  uniformity  and  steadiness  in  connexion. 
How  men  can  proceed  without  any  connexion  at  all,  is  to  mc 
utterly  incomprehensible.  Of  what  sort  of  materials  must 
that  man  be  made,  how  must  he  be  tempered  and  put  togeth- 
er, who  can  sit  whole  years  in  parliament,  with  five  hundred 
and  fifty  of  his  fellow  citizens,  amidst  the  storm  of  such  tern- 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  427 

pestuous  passions,  in  the  sharp  conflict  of  so  many  wits,  and 
tempers,  and  characters,  in  the  agitation  of  such  mighty 
questions,  in  the  discussion  of  such  vast  and  ponderous  inter- 
ests, without  seeing  any  one  sort  of  men,  whose  character, 
conduct,  or  disposition,  would  letad  him  to  associate  himself 
with  them,  to  aid  and  be  aided,  in  any  one  system  of  publick 
utility  ? 

I  remember  an  old  scholastick  aphorism,  which  says,  "  that 
the  man  who  lives  wholly  detached  from  others,  must  be  ei- 
ther an  angel  or  a  devil."  When  I  see  in  any  of  these  de- 
tached gentlemen  of  our  times  the  angelick  purity,  power, 
and  beneficence,  I  shall  admit  them  to  be  angels.  In  the 
mean  time  we  are  born  only  to  be  men.  We  shall  do  enough 
if  we  form  ourselves  to  be  good  ones.  It  is  therefore  our  busi- 
ness carefully  to  cultivate  in  our  minds,  to  rear  to  the  most 
perfect  vigour  and  maturity,  every  sort  of  generous  and  hon- 
est feeling  that  belongs  to  our  nature.  To  bring  the  dispo- 
sitions that  are  lovely  in  private  life  into  the  service  and  con- 
duct of  the  commonwealth  ;  so  to  be  patriots,  as  not  to  forget 
we  are  gentlemen.  To  cultivate  friendships,  and  to  incur  en- 
mities. To  have  both  strong,  but  both  selected  :  in  the  one, 
to  be  placable  ;  in  the  other  immoveable.  To  model  our  prin- 
ciples to  our  duties  and  our  situation.  To  be  fully  persuaded, 
that  all  virtue  which  is  impracticable  is  spurious  ;  and  rath- 
er to  run  the  risk  of  falling  into  faults  in  a  course  which 
leads  us  to  act  with  effect  and  energy,  than  to  loiter  out  our 
days  without  blame,  and  without  use.  Publick  life  is  a  situ- 
ation of  power  and  energy  ;  he  trespasses  against  his  duty 
w^ho  sleeps  upon  his  w^atch,  as  well  as  he  that  goes  over  to 
the  enemy. 

There  is,  however,  a  time  for  all  things.  It  is  not  every 
conjuncture  which  calls  with  equal  force  upon  the  activity  of 
honest  men  ;  but  critical  exigencies  now  and  then  arise  ;  and 
I  am  mistaken,  if  this  be  not  one  of  them.  Men  will  see 
the  necessity  of  honest  combination  ;  but  they  may  see  it 
when  it  is  too  late.  They  may  embody,  when  it  will  be  ru- 
inous to  themselves,  and  of  no  advantage  to  the  country  ; 
when,  for  want  of  such  a  timely  union  as  may  enable  them 
to  oppose  in  favour  of  the  laws,  with  the  laws  on  their  side, 


4,28  THOUGHTS  ON  THE  CAUSE  OF 

they  may,  at  length,  find  themselves  under  the  necessity  of 
conspiring,  instead  of  consulting.  The  law,  for  which  they 
sia.id,  may  become  a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  its  bitterest 
enemies  j  and  they  will  be  cast,  at  length,  into  that  miserable 
alternative,  between  slavery  and  civil  confusion,  which  no 
good  man  can  look  upon  without  horrour  ;  an  alternative  in 
which  it  is  impossible  he  should  take  either  part,  with  a  con^ 
scieace  perfectly  at  repose.  To  keep  that  situation  of  guilt 
and  remorse  at  the  utmost  distance,  is  therefore,  our  first  ob- 
ligation. Early  activity  may  prevent  late  and  fruitless  vio- 
lence. As  yet  we  work  in  the  light.  The  scheme  of  the 
enemies  of  publick  tranquillity  has  disarranged,  it  has  not 
destroyed  us. 

If  the  reader  believes  that  there  really  exists  such  a  faction 
as  I  have  described  ;  a  faction  ruling  by  the  private   inclina- 
tions of  a  court,  against  the  general  sense  of  the  people  ;  and 
that  this  faction,  whilst  it  pursues  a  scheme  for  undermining 
all  the  foundations  of  our  freedom,  weakens  (for  the  present 
at  least)  all  the  powers  of  executory  government,  rendering 
us  abroad  contemptible,  and  at  home  distracted  ;  he  will  be- 
lieve also,  that  nothing  but  a  firm  combination  of  publick  men 
against  this  body,  and  that,  too,  supported  by  the  hearty  con- 
currence of  the  people  at  large,  can  possibly  get  the  better  of 
it.     The    people  will  see  the  necessity  of  restoring  publick 
men  to  an  attention  to  the  publick  opinion,  and  of  restoring 
the  constitution  to  its  original  principles.     Above   all,    they 
will  endeavour  to   keep  the  house  of  commons  from  assum- 
ing a  character  which  does  not  belong  to  it.     They  will  en- 
deavour to  keep  that  house,  for  its  existence,  for  its  powers, 
and  its  privileges,  as  independent  of  every  other,  and  as  de- 
pendent upon  themselves,  as  possible.     This  servitude  is  to  a 
house  of  commons  (like  obedience  to  the  divine  law)    "  perr 
feet  freedom."     For  if  they  once  quit   this  natural,  rational, 
and  liberal  obedience,  having  deserted  the  only  proper  foun- 
dation of  their  power,  they  must  seek  a  support  in  an  abject 
and  unnatural  dependence  somewhere  else.     When,  through 
the  medium  of  this  just  connexion  with  their  constituents  the 
genuine  dignity  of  the  house   of  commons  is  i-estored,  it  will 
begin  to  think  of  casting  from  it,  with  scorn,  as  badges  of 


THE  PRESENT  DISCONTENTS.  429 

servility,  all  the  false  ornaments  of  illegal  power,  with  which 
it  has  been,  for  some  time,  disgraced.  It  will  begin  to  think 
of  its  old  office  of  Controul.  It  will  not  suffer,  that  last 
of  evils,  to  predominate  in  the  country  ;  men  without  popu- 
lar confidence,  publick  opinion,  natural  connexion,  or  mutual 
trust,  invested  with  all  the  powers  of  government. 

"When  they  have  learned  this  lesson  themselves,  they  will 
be  willing  and  able  to  teach  the  court,  that  it  is  the  true  in- 
terest of  the  prince  to  have  but  one  administration  ;  and  that 
one  composed  of  those  who  recommend  themselves  to  their 
sovereign  through  the  opinion  of  their  country,  and  not  by 
their  obsequiousness  to  a  favourite.  Such  men  will  serve 
their  sovereign  with  affection  and  fidelity  ;  because  his  choice 
of  them,  upon  such  principles,  is  a  compliment  to  their  vir- 
tue. They  will  be  able  to  serve  him  effectually  ;  because 
they  will  add  the  weight  of  the  country  to  the  force  of  the 
executory  power.  They  will  be  able  to  serve  their  king  with 
dignity ;  because  they  will  never  abuse  his  name  to  the  grat- 
ification of  their  private  spleen  or  avarice.  This,  with  allow- 
ances for  human  frailty,  may  probably  be  the  general  charac- 
ter of  a  ministry,  which  thinks  itself  accountable  to  the  house 
of  commons  ;  when  the  house  of  commons  thinks  itself  ac- 
countable to  its  constituents.  If  other  ideas  should  prevail, 
things  must  remain  in  their  present  confusion  ;  until  they  are 
hurried  into  all  the  rage  of  civil  violence  ;  or  until  they  sink 
into  the  dead  repose  of  despotism. 


y 


MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 


ON 


AMERICAN  TAXATION. 

1774. 


» 


PREFACE, 


X  HE  following  speech  has  been  much  the 
subject  of  conversation  ;  and  the  desire  of  having  it  printed 
was  last  summer  very  general.  The  means  of  gratifying  the 
publick  curiosity  were  obligingly  furnished  from  the  notes  of 
some  gentlemen,  members  of  the  last  parliament. 

This  piece  has  been  for  some  months  ready  for  the  press. 
But  a  delicacy,  possibly  over  scrupulous,  has  delayed  the 
publication  to  this  time.  The  friends  of  administration  have 
been  used  to  attribute  a  great  deal  of  the  opposition  to  their 
measures  in  America  to  the  writings  published  in  England. 
The  editor  of  this  speech  kept  it  back,  until  all  the  meas- 
ures of  government  have  had  their  full  operation,  and  can 
be  no  longer  affected,  if  ever  they  could  have  been  affected, 
by  any  publication. 

Most  readers  will  recollect  the  uncommon  pains  taken  at 
the  beginning  of  the  last  session  of  the  last  parliament,  and 
indeed  during  the  whole  course  of  it,  to  asperse  the  charac- 
ters, and  decry  the  measures,  of  those  who  were  supposed 
to  be  friends  to  America ;  in  order  to  weaken  the  effect  of 
their  opposition  to  the  acts  of  rigour  then  preparing  against 
the  colonies.  The  speech  contains  a  full  refutation  of  the 
charges  against  that  party  with  which  Mr.  Burke  has  all 
along  acted.  In  doing  this,  he  has  taken  a  review  of  the  ef- 
fects of  all  the  schemes  which  have  been  successively  adopt- 
ed in  the  government  of  the  plantations.  The  subject  is  in- 
teresting ;  the  matters  of  information  various,  and  impor« 
tant  ;  and  the  publication  at  this  time,  the  editor  hopes, 
will  not  be  thought  unseasonable. 

Vol.  I.  I  I  i 


4 


I 


i 


SPEECH,  ^c. 


iJuRING  the  last  session  of  the  last  Par- 
liament, on  the  19th  of  April,  1774,  Mr.  Rose  Fuller,  mem- 
ber for  Rye,  made  the  following  motion  ;  That  an  act  made 
in  the  seventh  year  of  the  reign  of  his  present  majesty,  intitu- 
led, "  An  act  for  granting  certain  dutiesin  the  British  colonies 
and  plantations  in  America  ;  for  allowing  a  draw  back  of  the 
duties  of  customs  upon  the  exportation  from  this  kingdom  of 
coffee  and  cocoa  nuts,  of  the  produce  of  the  said  colonies  or 
plantations  ;  for  discontinuing  the  drawbacks  payable  on 
china  earthen  ware  exported  to  America  ;  and  for  more  effec- 
tually preventing  the  clandestine  running  of  goods  in  the 
said  colonies  and  plantations  ;"  might  be  read. 

And  the  same  being  read  accordingly  ;  he  moved,  *'  That 
this  house  will,  upon  this  day  sevennight,  resolve  itself  in- 
to a  committee  of  the  whole  house,  to  take  into  considera- 
tion the  duty  of  Sd.  per  pound  weight  upon  tea,  payable  in 
all  his  majesty's  dominions  in  America,  imposed  by  the  said 
act  ;  and  also  the  appropriation  of  the  said  duty." 

On  this  latter  motion  a  warm  and  interesting  debate  arose, 
in  which  Mr.  Burke  spoke  as  follows  : 

Sir, 
I  agree  with  the  honourable  gentleman*  who  spoke  last, 
that  this  subject  is  not  new  in  this  house.  Very  disagreeably 
to  this  house,  very  unfortunately  to  this  nation,  and  to  the 
peace  and  prosperity  of  this  whole  empire,  no  topick  has  been 
more  familiar  to  us.     For  nine  long  years,  session  after  ses- 

•  Charles  Wolfran  Cornwall,  Esq.  lately  appointed  one  of  the  lords  of  the 
treasury. 


436  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

sion,  we  have  been  lashed  round  and  round  this  miserable 
circle  of  occasional  arguments  and  temporary  expedients.  I 
am  sure  our  heads  must  turn,  and  our  stomachs  nauseate, 
with  them.  We  have  had  them  in  every  shape  ;  we  have 
looked  at  them  in  every  point  of  view.  Invention  is  ex- 
hausted ;  reason  is  fatigued  ;  experience  has  given  judg- 
ment J  but  obstinacy  is  not  yet  conquered. 

The  honourable  gentleman  has  made  one  endeavour  more 
to  diversify  the  form  of  this  disgusting  argument.  He  has 
thrown  out  a  speech  composed  almost  entirely  of  challenges. 
Challenges  are  serious  things  ;  and  as  he  is  a  man  of  pru- 
dence as  well  as  resolution,  I  dare  say  he  has  very  well 
weighed  those  challenges  before  he  delivered  them.  I  had 
long  the  happiness  to  sit  at  the  same  side  of  the  house,  and 
to  agree  with  the  honourable  gentleman  on  all  the  American 
questions.  My  sentiments,  I  am  sure,  are  well  known  to 
hin:!  ;  and  I  thought  I  had  been  perfectly  acquainted  with 
his.  Though  I  find  myself  mistaken,  he- will  still  permit  me 
to  use  the  privilege  of  an  old  friendship,  he  will  permit  me 
to  apply  myself  to  the  house  under  the  sanction  of  his  au- 
thority ;  and,  on  the  various  grounds  he  has  measured  out, 
to  submit  to  you  the  poor  opinions  which  I  have  formed,  up- 
on a  matter  of  importance  enough  to  demand  the  fullest 
consideration  I  could  bestow  upon  it. 

He  has  stated  to  the  house  two  grounds  of  deliberation  i 
one  narrow  and  simple,  and  merely  confined  to  the  question 
on  your  paper  :  the  other  more  large  and  more  complicated  ; 
comprehending  the  whole  series  of  the  parliamentary  pro- 
ceedings with  regard  to  America,  their  causes,  and  their  con- 
sequences. With  regard  to  the  latter  ground,  he  states  it  as 
useless,  and  thinks  it  may  be  even  dangerous,  to  enter  into 
so  extensive  a  field  of  inquiry.  Yet,  to  my  surprise,  he  had 
hardly  laid  down  this  restrictive  proposition,  to  which  his 
authority  would  have  given  so  much  weight,  when  directly, 
and  with  the  same  authority,  he  condemns  it  ;  and  declares 
it  absolutely  necessary  to  enter  into  the  most  ample  historical 
detail.  His  zeal  has  thrown  him  a  little  out  of  his  usual  ac- 
curacy. In  this  perplexity  what  shall  we  do.  Sir,  who  are 
willing  to  submit  to  the  law  he  gives  us  ?  He  has  repro- 
bated in  one  part   of  his  speech  the  rule  he  had  laid  down 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  437 

for  debate  in  the  other  ;  and,  after  narrowing  the  ground 
for  all  those  who  are  to  speak  after  him,  he  takes  an  excur- 
sion himself,  as  unbounded  as  the  subject  and  the  extent  of 
his  great  abilities. 

Sir,  When  I  cannot  obey  all  his  laws,  I  will  do  the  best  I 
can.  I  will  endeavour  to  obey  such  of  them  as  have  the 
sanction  of  his  example  ;  and  to  stick  to  that  rule,  which, 
though  not  consistent  with  the  other,  is  the  most  rational. 
He  was  certainly  in  the  right  when  he  took  the  matter  large- 
ly. I  cannot  prevail  on  myself  to  agree  with  him  in  his  cen- 
sure of  his  own  conduct.  It  is  not,  he  will  give  me  leave 
to  say,  either  useless  or  dangerous.  He  asserts,  that  re- 
trospect is  not  wise  ;  and  the  proper,  the  only  proper, 
subject  of  inquiry,  is  "  not  how  we  got  into  this  difficulty, 
but  how  we  are  to  get  out  of  it."  In  other  words,  we  are, 
according  to  him,  to  consult  our  invention,  and  to  reject  our 
experience.  The  mode  of  deliberation  he  recommends  is 
diametrically  opposite  to  every  rule  of  reason,  and  every 
principle  of  good  sense  established  amongst  mankind.  For, 
that  sense  and  that  reason,  I  have  always  understood,  abso- 
lutely to  prescribe,  whenever  we  are  involved  in  difficulties 
from  the  measures  we  have  pursued,  that  we  should  take  a 
strict  review  of  those  measures,  in  order  to  correct  our  er- 
rours  if  they  should  be  corrigible  ;  or  at  least  to  avoid  a  duU 
uniformity  in  mischief,  and  the  unpitied  calamity  of  being 
repeatedly  caught  in  the  same  snare. 

Sir,  I  will  freely  follow  the  honourable  gentleman  in  his 
historical  discussion,  without  the  least  management  for  men 
or  measures,  further  than  as  they  shall  seem  to  me  to  deserve 
it.  But  before  I  go  into  that  large  consideration,  because  I 
would  omit  nothing  that  can  give  the  house  satisfaction,  I 
wish  to  tread  the  narrow  ground  to  which  alone  the  honour- 
able gentleman,  in  one  part  of  his  speech,  has  so  strictly  con- 
fined us. 

He  desires  to  know,  wheiher,  if  we  were  to  repeal  this 
tax,  agreeably  to  the  proposition  of  the  honourable  gentle- 
man who  made  the  motion,  the  Americans  would  not  take 
post  on  this  concession,  in  order  to  make  a  new  attack  on 
the  next  body  of  taxes  j  and  whether  they  would  not  call 
lor  a  repeal  of  the  duty  on  wine  as  loudly  as    they  do  now 


438  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

for  the  repeal  of  the  duty  on  tea  ?  Sir,  I  can  give  no  securi- 
ty on  this  subject.  But  I  will  do  all  that  I  can,  and  all  that 
can  be  fairly  demanded.  To  the  experience  which  the  hon-- 
ourable  gentleman  reprobates  in  one  instant,  and  reverts  to 
in  the  next ;  to  that  experience,  without  the  least  wavering 
or  hesitation  on  my  part,  I  steadily  appeal  ;  and  would  to 
God  there  was  no  other  arbiter  to  decide  on  the  vote  with 
which  the  house  is  to  conclude  this  day. 

When  parliament  repealed  the  stamp  act  in  the  year  1766, 
I  affirm,  first,  that  the  Americans  did  not  in  consequence  of 
this  measure  call  upon  you  to  give  up  the  former  parliament- 
ary revenue  which  subsisted  in  that  country  ;  or  even  any 
one  of  the  articles  which  compose  it.  I  affirm  also,  that 
when,  departing  from  the  maxims  of  that  repeal,  you  re- 
vived the  scheme  of  taxation,  and  thereby  filled  the  minds 
of  the  colonists  with  new  jealousy,  and  all  sorts  of  apprehen- 
sions, then  it  was  that  they  quarrelled  with  the  old  taxes,  as 
well  as  the  new  ;  then  it  was,  and  not  till  then,  that  they 
questioned  all  the  parts  of  your  legislative  power  ;  and  by 
the  battery  of  such  questions  have  shaken  the  solid  structure 
of  this  empire  to  its  deepest  foundations. 

Of  those  two  propositions  I  shall,  before  I  have  done,  give 
such  convincing,  such  damning  proof,  that  however  the  con- 
trary may  be  whispered  in  circles,  or  bawled  in  newspapers, 
they  never  more  will  dare  to  raise  their  voices  in  this  house. 
I  speak  with  great  confidence.  I  have  reason  for  it.  The 
ministers  are  with  me.  They  at  least  are  convinced  that  the 
repeal  of  the  stamp  act  had  not,  and  that  no  repeal  can  have, 
the  consequences  which  the  honourable  gentleman  who  de- 
fends their  measures  is  so  much  alarmed  at.  To  their  con- 
duct, I  refer  him  for  a  conclusive  answer  to  this  objection.  I 
carry  my  proof  irresistibly  into  the  very  body  of  both  min- 
istry and  parliament ;  not  on  any  general  reasoning  growing 
out  of  collateral  matter,  but  on  the  conduct  of  the  honour- 
able gentleman's  ministerial  friends  on  the  new  revenue  itself. 

The  act  of  1767,  which  grants  this  tea  duty,  sets  forth  in 
its  preamble,  that  it  was  expedient  to  raise  a  revenue  in 
America,  for  the  support  of  the  civil  government  there,  as 
well  as  for  purposes  still  more  extensive.  To  this  support  the 
act  assigns  six  branches  of  duties.     About    two   years    after 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION  439 

this  act  passed,  the  ministry,  I  mean  the  present  ministry, 
thought  it  expedient  to  repeal  five  of  the  duties,  and  to 
leave  (for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves)  only  the  sixth 
standing.  Suppose  any  person,  at  the  time  of  that  repeal, 
had  thus  addressed  the  minister*,  "  Condemning,  as  you 
do,  the  repeal  of  the  stamp  act,  why  do  you  venture  to  re- 
peal the  duties  upon  glass,  paper,  and  painter's  colours  ?  Let 
your  pretence  for  the  repeal  be  what  it  will,  are  you  not 
thoroughly  convinced,  that  your  concessions  will  produce, 
not  satisfaction,  but  insolence  in  the  Americans  •,  and  that 
the  giving  up  these  taxes  will  necessitate  the  giving  up  of  all 
the  rest  ?"  This  objection  was  as  palpable  then  as  it  is  now  •, 
and  it  was  as  good  for  preserving  the  five  duties  as  for  retain- 
ing the  sixth.  Besides,  the  minister  will  recollect,  that  the 
repeal  of  the  stamp  act  had  but  just  preceded  his  repeal ; 
and  the  ill  policy  of  that  measure  (had  it  been  so  Impolltick 
as  It  has  been  represented),  and  the  mischiefs  it  produced, 
were  quite  recent.  Upon  the  principles  therefore  of  the 
honourable  gentleman,  upon  the  principles  of  the  minister 
himself,  the  minister  has  nothing  at  all  to  answer.  He 
stands  condemned  by  himself,  and  by  all  his  associates  old 
and  new,  as  a  destroyer,  in  the  first  trust  of  finance,  of  the 
revenues  :  and  in  the  first  rank  of  honour,  as  a  betrayer  of 
the  dignity  of  his  country. 

Most  men,  especially  great  men,  do  not  always  know  their 
well-wishers.  I  come  to  rescue  that  noble  lord  out  of  the 
hands  of  those  he  calls  his  friends  ;  and  even  out  of  his  own. 
I  will  do  him  the  justice  he  Is  denied  at  home.  He  has  not 
been  this  wicked  or  Imprudent  man.  He  knew  that  a  re- 
peal had  no  tendency  to  produce  the  mischiefs  which  give  so 
much  alarm  to  his  honourable  friend.  His  work  was  not  bad 
in  its  principle,  but  imperfect  in  its  execution  ;  and  the  mo- 
tion on  your  paper  presses  him  only  to  compleat  a  proper 
plan,  which,  by  some  unfortunate  and  unaccountable  errour, 
he  had  left  unfinished. 

I  hope.  Sir,  the  honourable  gentleman  who  spoke  last,  is 
thoroughly  satisfied,  and  satisfied  out  of  the  proceedings  of 
ministry  on  their  own  favourite  act,  that  his  fears  from  a  re- 
peal are  groundless.     If  he  is  not,  I  leave  him,   and  the  no^ 

*  Lord  North,  then  chancellor  of  the  exchequer. 


4.40  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

ble  lord  who  sits  by  him,  to  settle  the  matter,  as  well  as  they 
can,  together  ;  for  if  the  repeal  of  American  taxes  destroys 
all  our  government  in  America — He  is  the  man  ! — and  he  is^ 
the  worst  of  all  the  repealers,  because  he  is  the  last. 

But  I  hear  it  rung  continually  in  my  ears,  now  and  for- 
merly,— "  the  preamble  !  what  will  become  of  the  preamble, 
if  you  repeal  this  tax  ?" — I  am  sorry  to  be  compelled  so  often 
to  expose  the  calamities  and  disgraces  of  parliament.  The 
preamble  of  this  law,  standing  as  it  now  stands,  has  the  lie 
direct  given  to  it  by  the  provisionary  part  of  the  act  ;  if  that 
can  be  called  provisionary  which  makes  no  provision.  I 
should  be  afraid  to  express  myself  in  this  manner,  especially 
in  the  face  of  such  a  formidable  array  of  ability  as  is  now 
drawn  up  before  me,  composed  of  the  antient  household 
troops  of  that  side  of  the  house,  and  the  new  recruits  from 
this,  if  the  matter  were  not  clear  and  indisputable.  Nothingbut 
truth  could  give  me  this  firmness;  but  plain  truth  and  clear  ev- 
idence can  be  beat  down  by  no  ability.  The  clerk  will  be  so 
good  as  to  turn  to  the  act,  and  to  read  this  favourite  preamble: 

Whereas  it  is  expedient  that  a  revenue  should  be  raised  in 
your  majesty's  dominions  in  America^  for  makitig  a  more  certain 
and  adequate  provision  for  defraying  the  charge  of  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice,  and  support  of  civil  government,  in  suck 
provinces  where  it  shall  be  found  necessary  ;  and  toivards  further 
defraying  the  expences  of  defending,  protecting,  and  securing 
the  said  dominions. 

You  have  heard  this  pompous  performance.  Now  where 
is  the  revenue  which  is  to  do  all  these  mighty  things  ?  Five 
sixths  repealed — abandoned — sunk — gone — lost  for  ever. — 
Does  the  poor  solitary  tea  duty  support  the  purposes  of  this 
preamble  ?  Is  not  the  supply  there  stated  as  effectually  aban- 
doned as  if  the  tea  duty  had  perished  in  the  general  wreck  ? 
Here,  Mr.  Speaker,  is  a  precious  mockery — a  preamble 
without  an  act — taxes  granted  in  order  to  be  repealed — and 
the  reasons  of  the  grant  still  carefully  kept  up  !  This  is  rais- 
ing a  revenue  in  America  !  This  is  preserving  dignity  in 
England  !  If  you  repeal  this  tax  in  compliance  with  the  mo- 
tion, I  readily  admit  that  you  los'-  this  fair  preamble.  Es- 
timate your  loss  in  it.  The  object  of  the  act  is  gone  already } 
and  all  you  suffer  is  the  purging  the  statute-book  of  the  op- 
probrium of  an  empty,  absurd,  and  false  recital. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  441 

'  It  has  been  said  again  and  again,  that  the  five  taxes  were 
I'epealed  on  commercial  principles.  It  is  so  said  in  the  paper 
in  my  hand*  ;  a  paper  which  I  constantly  carry  about ;  which 
I  have  often  used,  and  shall  often  use  again.  What  is  got  by  this 
paltry  pretence  of  commercial  principles  I  know  not ;  for,  if 
your  government  in  America  is  destroyed  by  the  repeal  of  taxes, 
it  is  of  no  consequence  upon  what  ideas  the  repeal,  is  grounded. 
Repeal  this  tax  too  upon  commercial  principles  if  you  please. 
These  principles  will  serve  as  well  now  as  they  did  formerly.  But 
you  know  that,  either  your  objection  to  a  repeal  from  these 
supposed  consequences  has  no  validity,  or  that  this  pretence 
never  could  remove  it.  This  commercial  motive  never  was 
believed  by  any  man,  either  in  America,  which  this  letter  is 
meant  to  soothe,  or  in  England,  which  it  is  meant  to  deceive. 
It  was  impossible  it  should.  Because  every  man,  in  the  least 
acquainted  with  the  detail  of  coinmerce,  must  know,  that  sev- 
eral of  the  articles  on  which  the  tax  was  repealed,  Avere  fitter 
objects  of  duties  than  alm.ost  any  other  articles  that  could  pos- 
sibly be  chosen  ;  without  comparison  more  so,  than  the  tea 
that  was  left  taxed  ;  as  infinitely  less  liable  to  be  eluded  by 
contraband.  The  tax  upon  red  and  white  lead  was  of  this 
nature.  You  have,  in  this  kingdom,  an  advantage  in  lead, 
that  amounts  to  a  monopoly.  When  you  find  yourself  in  this 
situation  of  advantage,  you  sometimes  venture  to  tax  even 
your  own  export.  You  did  so,  soon  after  the  last  war  •,  when, 
upon  this  principle,  you  ventured  to  impose  a  duty  on  coals. 
In  all  the  articles  of  American  contraband  trade,  w^ho  ever 
heard  of  the  smuggling  of  red  lead,  and  white  lead  ?  You 
might,  therefore,  well  enough,  without  danger  of  contraband, 
and  without  injury  to  commerce  (if  this  were  the  whole  con- 
sideration) have  taxed  these  commodities.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  glass.  Besides,  some  of  the  things  taxed  were  so  triv- 
ial, that  the  loss  of  the  objects  themselves  and  their  utter  an-> 
nihilation  out  of  American  commerce,  would  have  been  com- 
paratively as  nothing.  But  is  the  article  of  tea  such  an  ob- 
ject in  the  trade  of  England,  as  not  to  be  felt,  or  felt  but 
slightly,  like  white  lead,  and  red  lead,  and  painters'  colours  i 
IVa  is  an  object  of  far  other  importance.     Tea  is  perhaps  the 

*  Lord  Hillsborough's  circular  letter  to  the  governours  of  the  colonies  con- 
cerning the  repeal  of  some  of  the  duties  laid  in  the  act  of  1767. 

Vol.  I.  K  K  k 


44-2  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

most  important  object,  taking  it  with  its  necessary  connex- 
ions, of  any  in  the  mighty  circle  of  our  commerce.     If  com- 
mercial principles  had  been  the  true  motives  to  the  repeal,  or 
had  they  been  at  all  attended  to,  tea  would  have  been  the  last 
article  we  should  have  left  taxed  for  a  subject  of  controversy. 

Sir,  It  is  not  a  pleasant  consideration  ;  but  nothing  in  the 
world  can  read  so  awful  and  so  instructive  a  lesson,  as  the 
conduct  of  ministry  in  this  business,  upon  the  mischief  of  not 
having  large  and  liberal  ideas  in  the  management  of  great  af- 
fairs. Never  have  the  servants  of  the  state  looked  at  the 
whole  of  your  complicated  interests  in  one  connected  view. 
They  have  taken  things,  by  bits  and  scraps,  some  at  one  time 
and  one  pretence,  and  some  at  another,  just  as  they  pressed, 
without  any  sort  of  regard  to  their  relations  or  depen- 
dencies. They  never  had  any  kind  of  system,  right  or 
wrong  ;  but  only  invented  occasionally  some  miserable  tale 
for  the  day,  in  order  meanly  to  sneak  out  of  difficulties,  into 
which  they  had  proudly  strutted.  And  they  were  put  to  all 
these  shifts  and  devices,  full  of  meanness  and  full  of  mischief, 
in  order  to  pilfer  piecemeal  a  repeal  of  an  act,  which  they 
had  not  the  generous  courage,  when  they  found  and  felt  their 
errour,  honourably  and  fairly  to  disclaim.  By  such  manage- 
ment, by  the  irresistible  operation  of  feeble  councils,  so  paltry 
a  sum  as  three-pence  in  the  eyes  of  a  financier,  so  insignifi- 
cant an  article  as  tea  in  the  eyes  of  a  philosopher,  have  shaken 
the  pillars  of  a  commercial  empire  that  circled  the  whole  globe. 

Do  you  forget  that,  in  the  very  last  year,  you  stood  on  the 
precipice  of  general  bankruptcy  ?  Your  danger  was  indeed 
great.  You  were  distressed  in  the  affairs  of  the  East  India 
company  ;  and  you  well  know  what  sort  of  things  are  involv- 
ed in  the  comprehensive  energy  of  that  significant  appella- 
tion. I  am  not  called  upon  to  enlarge  to  you  on  that  danger, 
v.'hich  you  thought  proper  yourselves  to  aggravate,  and  to 
display  to  the  world  with  all  the  parade  of  indiscreet  declama- 
tion. The  monopoly  of  the  most  lucrative  trades,  and  the 
possession  of  imperial  revenues,  had  brought  you  to  the  verge 
of  beggary  and  ruin.  Such  was  your  representation — 
such,  in  some  measure,  was  your  case.  The  vent  of  ten  mil- 
lions of  pounds  of  this  commodity,  now  locked  up  by  the  op- 
eration of  an  injudicious  tax,  and  rotting  in  the  warehouses  of 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  443 

the  company,  would  have  prevented  all  this  distress,  and  all 
that  series  of  desperate  measures  v?hich  you  thought  your- 
selves obliged  to  take  in  consequence  of  it.  America  would 
have  furnished  that  vent,  which  no  other  part  of  the  world 
can  furnish  but  America  ;  where  tea  is  next  to  a  necessary 
of  life  J  and  where  the  demand  grows  upon  the  supply.  I 
hope  our  dear-bought  East  India  committees  have  done  us 
at  least  so  much  good,  as  to  let  us  know,  that  without  a  more 
extensive  sale  of  that  article  our  East  India  revenues  and  ac- 
quisitions can  have  no  certain  connexion  with  this  country. 
It  is  through  the  American  trade  of  tea  that  your  East  India 
conquests  are  to  be  prevented  from,  crushing  you  with  their 
burthen.  They  are  ponderous  indeed  ;  and  they  must  have 
that  great  country  to  lean  upon,  or  they  tumble  upon  your 
head.  It  is  the  same  folly  that  has  lost  you  at  once  the  ben- 
efit of  the  west  and  the  east.  This  folly  has  thrown  open 
folding-doors  to  contraband  ;  and  will  be  the  means  of  giv- 
ing the  profits  of  the  trade  of  your  colonies,  to  every  nation 
but  yourselves.  Never  did  a  people  suffer  so  much  for  the 
empty  words  of  a  preamble.  It  must  be  given  up.  For  on 
what  principle  does  it  stand  ?  This  famous  revenue  stands, 
at  this  hour,  on  all  the  debate,  as  a  description  of  revenue 
not  as  yet  known  in  all  the  comprehensive  (but  too  compre- 
hensive ! )  vocabulary  of  finance — a  preambulary  tax.  It  is 
indeed  a  tax  of  sophistry,  a  tax  of  pedantry,  a  tax  of  dispu- 
tation, a  tax  of  war  and  rebellion,  a  tax  for  any  thing  but 
benefit  to  the  imposers,  or  satisfaction  to  the  subject. 

Well !  but  whatever  it  is,  gentlemen  will  force  the  colo- 
nists to  take  the  teas.  You  will  force  them  ?  has  seven 
years  struggle  been  yet  able  to  force  them  ?  O  but  it  seems 
<«  we  are  in  the  right. — The  tax  is  trifling — in  eiFect  it  is 
rather  an  exoneration  than  an  imposition  ;  three-fourths  of 
the  duty  formerly  payable  on  teas  exported  to  America  is  taken 
off  ;  the  place  of  collection  is  only  shifted  ;  instead  of  the  re- 
tention of  a  shilling  from  the  draw-back  here,  it  is  three- 
pence custom  paid  in  America."  All  this,  Sir,  is  very  true. 
But  this  is  the  very  folly  and  mischief  of  the  act.  Incredible 
as  it  may  seem,  you  know  that  you  have  deliberately  throv,n 
away  a  large  duty  which  you  held  secure  and  quiet  in  your 
hands,  for  the  vain  hope  of  getting  one  three-fourths  less, 


444.  MR.  BURICE'S  SPEECH 

through  every  hazard,  through  certain  litigation,  and  possi- 
bly through  war. 

The  manner  of  proceeding  in  the  duties  on  paper  and  glass, 
imposed  by  the  same  act,  was  exactly  in  the  same  spirit. 
There  are  heavy  excises  on  those  articles  when  used  in  Eng- 
land. On  export,  these  excises  are  drawn  back.  But  instead 
of  withholding  the  draw-back,  which  might  have  been  done, 
with  ease,  without  charge,  without  possibility  of  smuggling  ; 
and  instead  of  applying  the  money  (money  already  in  your 
hands)  according  to  your  pleasure,  you  began  your  operations 
in  finance  by  flinging  away  your  revenue  ;  you  allowed  the 
whole  draw-back  on  export,  and  then  you  charged  the  duty 
(which  you  had  before  discharged),  payable  in  the  colonies  ; 
where  it  was  certain  the  collection  would  devour  it  to  the 
bone ;  if  any  revenue  were  ever  suffered  to  be  collected  at  all. 
One  spirit  pervades  and  animates  the  whole  mass. 

Could  any  thing  be  a  subject  of  more  just  alarm  to  Ameri- 
ca, than  to  see  you  go  out  of  the  plain  high  road  of  finance, 
and  give  up  your  most  certain  revenues  and  your  clearest  in- 
terest, merely  for  the  sake  of  insulting  your  colonies  ?  No 
man  ever  doubted  that  the  commodity  of  tea  could  bear  an 
imposition  of  three-pence.  But  no  commodity  will  bear 
three-pence,  or  will  bear  a  penny,  when  the  general  feelings 
of  men  are  irritated,  and  two  millions  of  people  are  resolved 
not  to  pay.  The  feelings  of  the  colonies  were  formerly  the 
feelings  of  Great  Britain.  Theirs  were  formerly  the  feelings 
of  Mr.  Hampden  when  called  upon  for  the  payment  af  tw^en- 
ty  shillings.  Would  twenty  shillings  have  ruined  Mr.  Hamp- 
den's fortune  .-'  No  !  but  the  payment  of  half  twenty  shil- 
lings, on  the  principle  it  was  demanded,  would  have  made 
him  a  slave.  It  is  the  weight  of  that  preamble,  of  which  you 
are  so  fond,  and  not  the  weight  of  the  duty,  that  the  Ameri- 
cans are  unable  and  unwilling  to  bear. 

It  is  then.  Sir,  upon  th.e principle  of  this  measure,  and  noth- 
ing else,  that  we  are  at  issue.  It  is  a  principle  of  political 
expediency.  Your  act  of  1767  asserts,  that  it  is  expedient 
to  raise  a  revenue  in  America  ;  your  act  of  1769,  which 
takes  away  that  revenue,  contradicts  the  act  of  1 767  ;  and, 
by  something  much  stronger  than  words,  asserts,  that  it  is 
not  expedient.     It  is  a  reflexion  upon  your  wisdom  to  per- 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  44.5 

sist  in  a  solemn  parliamentary  declaration  of  the  expediency 
of  any  object,  for  which,  at  the  same  time,  you  make  no  sort 
of  provision.  And  pray,  Sir,  let  not  this  circumstance  es- 
cape you  ;  it  is  very  material ;  that  the  preamble  of  this  act, 
which  we  wish  to  repeal,  is  not  declaratory  of  right f  as  some 
gentlemen  seem  to  argue  it  ;  it  is  only  a  recital  of  the  expe- 
diency of  a  certain  exercise  of  a  right  supposed  already  to 
have  been  asserted  ;  an  exercise  you  are  now  contending  for 
by  ways  and  means,  which  you  confess,  though  they  were 
obeyed,  to  be  utterly  insufficient  for  their  purpose.  You 
are  therefore  at  this  moment  in  the  aukward  situation  of 
fighting  for  a  phantom  ;  a  quiddity ;  a  thing  that  wants,  not 
only  a  substance,  but  even  a  name  j  for  a  thing,  which  is 
neither  abstract  right,  nor  profitable  enjoyment. 

They  tell  you.  Sir,  that  your  dignity  is  tied  to  it.  I  know 
not  how  it  happens,  but  this  dignity  of  yours  is  a  terrible 
incumbrance  to  vou  :  for  it  has  of  late  been  ever  at  war  with 
your  interest,  your  equity,  and  every  idea  of  your  policy. 
Shew  the  thing  you  contend  for  to  be  reason  ;  shew  it  to  be 
common  sense  j  shew  it  to  be  the  means  of  attaining  some 
useful  end  ;  and  then  I  am  content  to  allow  it  what  dignity 
you  please.  But  what  dignity  is  derived  from  the  perse- 
verance in  absurdity  is  more  than  I  ever  could  discern.  The 
honourable  gentleman  has  said  well — Indeed,  in  most  of  his 
general  observations  I  agree  with  him — he  says,  that  this 
subject  does  not  stand  as  it  did  formerly.  Oh,  certainly  not  ! 
every  hour  you  continue  on  this  ill  chosen  ground,  your  dif- 
ficulties thicken  on  you  ;  and  therefore  my  conclusion  is, 
remove  from  a  bad  position  as  quickly  as  you  can.  The  dis- 
grace, and  the  necessity  of  yielding,  both  of  them,  grow  up- 
on you  every  hour  of  your  delay. 

But  will  you  repeal  the  act,  says  the  honourable  gentle- 
man, at  this  instant  when  America  is  In  open  resistance  to 
your  authority,  and  that  you  have  just  revived  your  system 
of  taxation  ?  He  thinks  he  has  driven  us  into  a  corner.  But 
thus  pent  up,  I  am  content  to  meet  him  ;  because  I  enter  the 
lists  supported  by  my  old  authority,  his  new  friends,  the 
ministers  themselves.  The  honourable  gentleman  remem- 
bers, that  about  five  years  ago  as  great  disturbances  as  the 
present  prevailed  in  America  on  account^  of  the  new  taxes. 


446  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

The  ministers  represented  these  disturbances  as  treasonable  ; 
and  this  house  thought  proper,  on  that  representation,  to 
make  a  famous  address  for  a  revival,  and  for  a  new  apphca-  - 
tion,  of  a  statute  of  Henry  VIII.  We  besought  the  king, 
in  that  well-considered  address,  to  enquire  into  treasons,  and 
to  bring  the  supposed  traitors  from  America  to  Great  Britain 
for  trial.  His  majesty  was  pleased  graciously  to  promise  a 
compliance  with  our  request.  All  the  attempts  from  this 
side  of  the  house  to  resist  these  violences,  and  to  bring  about 
a  repeal,  were  treated  with  the  utmost  scorn.  An  apprehen- 
sion of  the  very  consequences  now  stated  by  the  honourable 
gentleman,  was  then  given  as  a  reason  for  shutting  the  door 
against  all  hope  of  such  an  alteration.  And  so  strong  was 
the  spirit  for  supporting  the  new  taxes,  that  the  session  con- 
cluded with  the  following  remarkable  declaration.  After 
stating  the  vigorous  measures  which  had  been  pursued,  the 
speech  from  the  throne  proceeds  : 

JTou  have  assured  me  of  your  firm  support  in  the  prosecution 
of  them.  Nothing.,  in  my  opinion f  could  be  more  likely  to  enable 
the  well  disposed  among  my  subjects  in  that  part  of  the  ivorldy  ef- 
fectually to  discourage  and  defeat  the  designs  of  the  factious  and 
seditious^  than  the  hearty  concurrence  of  every  branch  of  the  legis" 
laturcy  in  maintaining  the  execution  of  the  laws  in  every  part 
of  my  dominions. 

After  this  no  man  dreamt  that  a  repeal  under  this  minis- 
try could  possibly  take  place.  The  honourable  gentleman 
knows  as  well  as  I,  that  the  idea  was  utterly  exploded  by 
those  who  sway  the  house.  This  speech  was  made  on  the 
ninth  day  of  May,  1769.  Five  days  after  this  speech,  that 
is,  on  the  13th  of  the  same  month,  the  publick  circular  letter, 
a  part  of  which  I  am  going  to  read  to  you,  was  written  by 
Lord  Hillsborough,  secretary  of  state  for  the  colonies.  After 
reciting  the  substance  of  the  king's  speech,  he  goes  on  thus  ; 

"  /  can  take  upon  me  to  assure  you,  notivithstanding  insinua- 
tions to  the  contrary,  from  men  with  factious  and  seditious 
views,  that  his  majesty's  present  administration  have  at  no 
time  entertained  a  design  to  propose  to  parliament  to  lay 
any  further  taxes  upon  America,  for  the  purpose  of  RAIS- 
ING A  REVENUE  ;  and  that  it  is  at  present  their  intention 
to  propose^  the  ne^t  session  of  parliament  ^  to  take  off  the  duties  upon 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  44.7 

glasSi  paper t  and  colours^  upon  consideration  of  such  duties  hav- 
ing been  laid  contrary  to  the  true  principles  of  commerce. 

«  These  have  always  been^  and  still  are,  the  sentiments  of  his 
majesty's  present  servants  ;  and  by  which  their  conduct  in  re- 
spect to  America  has  been  governed.  And  his  majesty  re- 
lies upon  your  prudence  and  fidelity  for  such  an  explanation  o/'his 
measures^  as  may  tend  to  remove  the  prejudices  which  have  been 
excited  by  the  misrepresentations  of  those  who  are  enemies  to  the 
peace  and  prosperity  of  Great  Britain  and  her  colonies  ;  and  to  re- 
establish that  mutual  confidence  and  affection,  upon  which  the 
glory  and  safety  of  the  British  empire  depend^ 

Here,  Sir,  is  a  canonical  book  of  ministerial  scripture  ;  the 
general  epistle  to  the  Americans.  What  does  the  gentle- 
man say  to  it  ?  Here  a  repeal  is  promised  ;  promised  with- 
out condition  ;  and  while  your  authority  was  actually  resist- 
ed. I  pass  by  the  publick  promise  of  a  peer  relative  to  the 
repeal  of  taxes  by  this  house.  I  pass  by  the  use  of  the  king's 
name  in  a  matter  of  supply,  that  sacred  and  reserved  right 
of  the  Commons.  I  conceal  the  ridiculous  figure  of  parlia- 
ment, hurling  its  thunders  at  the  gigantick  rebellion  of 
America  \  and  then  five  days  after,  prostrate  at  the  feet  of 
those  assemblies  we  affected  to  despise  ;  begging  them,  by 
the  intervention  of  our  ministerial  sureties,  to  receive  our 
submission ;  and  heartily  promising  amendment.  These 
might  have  been  serious  matters  formerly  \  but  we  are  grown 
wiser  than  our  fathers.  Passing,  therefore,  from  the  con- 
stitutional consideration  to  the  mere  policy,  does  not  this  let- 
ter imply,  that  the  idea  of  taxing  America  for  the  purpose  of 
revenue  is  an  abominable  project ;  when  the  iTiinistry  sup- 
pose none  hvit  factious  men,  and  with  seditious  views  could 
charge  them  with  it  ?  does  not  this  lettei^  adopt  and  sanctify 
the  American  distinction  of  taxing  for  a  revenue  ?  does  it  not 
formally  reject  all  future  taxation  on  that  principle  ?  does 
it  not  state  the  ministerial  rejection  of  such  principle  of  tax- 
ation, not  as  the  occasional,  but  the  constant  opinion  of  the 
king's  servants  ?  does  it  not  say  (I  care  not  how  consistently), 
but  does  it  not  say,  that  their  conduct  with  regard  to  Ameri- 
ca has  been  always  governed  by  this  policy  ?  It  goes  a  great 
deal  further.  These  excellent  and  trustv  servants  of  the 
king,  justly  fearful  lest  they  themselves   should  have  lost  all 


4,4.8  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

credit  with  the  world,  bring  out  the  image  of  their  graciou? 
sovereign  from  the  inmost  and  most  sacred  shrine,  and  they 
pawn  him  as  a  security  for  their  promises. — "  His  majesty . 
relies  on  your  prudence  and  fidelity  for  such  an  explanation 
of  his  measures."  These  sentiments  of  the  minister,  and 
these  measures  of  his  majesty,  can  only  relate  to  the  princi- 
ple and  practice  of  taxing  for  a  revenue  ;  and  accordingly 
Lord  Botetourt,  stating  it  as  such,  did,  with  great  propriety, 
and  in  the  exact  spirit  of  his  instructions,  endeavour  to  re- 
move the  fears  of  the  Virginian  assembly,  lest  the  sentiments, 
which  it  seems  (unknown  to  the  world)  had  alivays  been 
those  of  the  ministers,  and  by  which  their  conduct  in  re- 
spect to  America  had  been  governedy  should  by  some  possible 
revolution,  favourable  to  wicked  American  taxes,  be  hereaf- 
ter counteracted.     He  addresses  them  in  this  manner  : 

//  may  possibly  be  ohjectedy  that^  as  his  Majestfs  present  ad- 
ministration are  not  immortal,  their  successors  may  be  inclined  to 
attempt  to  undo  nvhat  the  present  ministers  shall  have  attempted  to 
perform  ;  and  to  that  objection  I  can  give  but  this  answer  ;  that 
it  is  my  firm  opinion^  that  the  plan  I  have  stated  to  you  loill  cer- 
tainly take  place .,  and  that  it  tuill  never  be  departed  from  ;   and  st 
determined  am   I  for   ever  to  abide  by   itj  that   I  ivill  be  con- 
tent to  be  declared  infamous^   if  I  do   not^   to  the  last    hour  of 
my  lifcy  at  all  timesj  in    all  places,  and  upon  all  occasions,  exert 
every  power  ivith  ivhich  I  either  am,  or  ever  shall  be  legally  in- 
vested, in  order  to  obtain  and  maintainyir  the  continent  of  Amer- 
ica that  satisfaction  which  I  have  been  authorised  to  promise  this 
day,  by  the  confidential  servants  of  our  gracious  sovereign,  who 
to  my  certain  knowledge  rates  his  ho7iour  so  high,  that  he  would 
rather  part  with  his  crown,  than  preserve  it  by  deceit*. 

*  A  material  point  is  omitted  by  Mr.  Burke  in  this  speech,  viz.  the  manner 
in  tvhich  the  continent  received  this  royal  assurance.  The  assembly  of  Virginia,  io 
their  address  in  answer  to  lord  Botetourt's  speech,  express  themselves  thus ; 
"  We  will  not  suffer  our  present  hopes,  arising  from  the  pleasing  prospect 
your  lordship  hath  so  kindly  opened  and  displayed  to  us,  to  be  dashed  by 
the  bitter  reflection  that  axiy  future  administration  willentertain  a  wish  to  de- 
part from  that  plan  wliich  affords  the  surest  and  most  permanent  foundation 
ofpublick  tranquillity  and  happineess :  No,  my  lord,  we  are  sure  o.vr  ;//oj< 
gracious  sovereign,  under  whatever  changes  may  liapnen  in  his  confidential 
servants,  will  remain  immutable  in  the  ways  of  truth  and  justice,  and  that  he 
is  incapable  of  deceiving  his  faithful  subjects ;  and  we  esteem  your  lordship's  infor- 
mation not  oiily  as  warranted,  but  even  sanctified  hy  tic  royal  ivod." 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  449 

A  glorious  and  true  character  !  wliich  (since  we  suffer  his 
ministers  with  impunity  to  answer  for  his  ideas  of  taxation) 
we  ought  to  make  it  our  business  to  enable  his  majesty  to 
preserve  in  all  its  lustre.  Let  him  have  character,  since  ours 
is  no  more  !  Let  some  part  of  government  be  kept  in  respect ! 

This  epistle  was  not  the  letter  of  lord  Hillsborough  sole- 
ly i  though  he  held  the  official  pen.  It  was  the  letter  of 
the  noble  lord  upon  the  floor*,  and  of  all  the  king's  then  min- 
isters, who  (with  I  think  the  exception  of  two  only)  are  his 
ministers  at  this  hour.  The  very  first  news  that  a  British 
parliament  heard  of  what  it  was  to  do  with  the  duties  which 
it  had  given  and  granted  to  the  king,  was  by  the  publication 
of  the  votts  of  American  assemblies.  It  was  in  America  that 
your  resolutions  were  pre-declared.  It  was  from  thence  that 
we  knew  to  a  certainty,  how  much  exactly,  and  not  a  sci-uple 
more  nor  less,  we  were  to  repeal.  We  were  unworthy  to 
be  let  into  the  secret  of  our  own  conduct.  The  assemblies 
had  confidential  communications  from  his  majesty's  ccnfiden- 
tial  servants.  We  were  nothing  but  instruments.  Do  you, 
after  this,  wonder,  that  you  have  no  weight  and  no  respect 
in  the  colonies  ?  After  this,  are  you  surprised,  that  parlia- 
ment is  every  day  and  every  where  losing  (I  feel  it  with 
sorrow,  I  utter  it  with  reluctance)  that  reverential  affection, 
which  so  endearing  a  name  of  authority  ought  ever  to  carry 
with  it  ;  that  you  are  obeyed  solely  from  respect  to  the 
bayonet  ;  and  that  this  house,  the  ground  and  pillar  of  free- 
dom, is  itself  held  up  only  by  the  treacherous  under-pinning 
and  clumsy  buttresses  of  arbitrary  power  ? 

If  this  dignity,  which  is  to  stand  in  the  place  of  just  poli- 
cy and  common  sense,  had  been  consulted,  there  was  a  time 
for  preserving  it,  and  for  reconciling  it  with  any  concession. 
If  in  the  session  of  176S,  that  session  of  idle  terrour  and 
empty  menaces,  you  had,  as  you  were  often  pressed  to  do, 
repealed  these  taxes  ;  then  your  strong  operations  would 
have  come  justified  and  enforced,  in  case  your  concessions 
liad  been  returned  by  outrages.  But,  preposterously,  you 
began  with  violence  ;  and  before  terrours  could  have  any  ef- 
fect, either  good  or  bad,  your  ministers  immediately  begged 
pardon,  and  promised  that  repeal  to  the  obstinate  Americans 

*  lord  North. 

Vol.  I.  L  L  1 


4,50  fv^R-  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

which  they  had  refused  in  an  easy,  good-natured,  complying 
British  parliament.  The  assemblies,  which  had  been  pub- 
lickly  and  avowedly  dissolved  for  their  contumacy,  are  call- 
ed together  to  receive  your  submission.  Your  ministerial 
directors  blustered  like  tragick  tyrants  here  •,  and  then  went 
mumping  with  a  sore  leg  in  America,  canting  and  whining, 
and  complaining  of  faction,  which  represented  them  as  friends 
to  a  revenue  from  the  colonies.  I  hope  nobody  in  this 
house  will  hereafter  have  the  impudence  to  defend  Ameri- 
can taxes  in  the  name  of  ministry.  The  moment  they  do, 
with  this  letter  of  attorney  in  my  hand,  I  will  tell  them,  in 
the  authorised  terms,  they  are  wretches,  «  with  factious  and 
seditious  views  ;  enemies  to  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the 
mother  country  and  the  colonies,"  and  subverters  **  of  the 
mutual  aflfection  and  confidence  on  which  the  glory  and  safe- 
ty of  the  British  empire  depend." 

After  this  letter,  the  question  is  no  more  on  propriety  or 
dignity.  They  are  gone  already.  The  faith  of  your  sove- 
reign is  pledged  for  the  political  principle.  The  general 
declaration  in  the  letter  goes  to  the  whole  of  it.  You  must 
therefore  either  abandon  the  scheme  of  taxing  •,  or  you  must 
send  the  ministers  tarred  and  feathered  to  America,  who 
dared  to  hold  out  the  royal  faith  for  a  renunciation  of  all  tax- 
es for  revenue.  Them  you  must  punish,  or  this  faith  you 
must  preserve.  The  preservation  of  this  faith  is  of  more  con- 
sequence than  the  duties  on  red  lead,  or  white  lead,  or  on  bro- 
ken glassy  or  atlas-ordinary  J  or  demy-fine^  or  blue-royal^  or  bas- 
tardy or  fool' s-capy  which  you  have  given  up  *,  or  the  three- 
pence on  tea  which  you  retained.  The  letter  went  stampt 
with  the  publick  authority  of  this  kingdom.  The  instructions 
for  the  colony  government  go  under  no  other  sanction  ;  and 
America  cannot  believe,  and  will  not  obey  you,  if  you  do  not 
preserve  this  channel  of  communication  sacred.  You  are  now 
punishing  the  colonies  for  acting  on  distinctions,  held  out  by 
that  very  ministry  which  is  here  shining  in  riches,  in  favour, 
and  in  power  ;  and  urging  the  punishment  of  the  very  of- 
fence to  which  they  had  themselves  been  the  tempters. 

Sir,  if  reasons  respecting  simply  your  own  commerce, 
which  is  your  own  convenience,  were  the  sole  grounds  of  the 
repeal  of  the  five  duties  ;    why  does  lord  Hillsborough,  in 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  451 

disclaiming  in  the  name  of  the  king  and  ministry  their  ever 
having  had  an  intent  to  tax  for  revenue,  mention  it  as  th^ 
means"  of  re-establishing  the  confidence  and  affection  of  the 
colonies  ?"  Is  it  a  way  of  soothing  others^  to  assure  them  that 
you  will  take  good  care  oi yourself  ?  The  medium,  the  only 
medium,  for  regaining  their  affection  and  confidence,  is,  that 
you  will  take  off  something  oppressive  to  their  minds.  Sir, 
the  letter  strongly  enforces  that  idea  :  for  though  the  re- 
peal of  the  taxes  is  promised  on  commercial  principles,  yet 
the  means  of  counteracting  "  the  insinuations  of  men  with 
factious  and  seditious  views,"  is,  by  a  disclaimer  of  the  inten- 
tion of  taxing  for  revenue,  as  a  constant  invariable  sentiment 
and  rule  of  conduct  in  the  government  of  America. 

I  remember  that  the  noble  lord  on  the  floor,  not  in  a  for- 
mer debate  to  be  sure  (it  would  be  disorderly  to  refer  to  it, 
I  suppose  I  read  it  somewhere),  but  the  noble  lord  was  pleas- 
ed to  say,  that  he  did  not  conceive  how  it  could  enter  into 
the  head  of  man  to  impose  such  taxes  as  those  of  1767  j  I 
mean  those  taxes  which  he  voted  for  imposing,  and  voted 
for  repealing  ;  as  being  taxes,  contrary  to  all  the  principles  of 
commerce,  laid  on  British  manufactures. 

I  dare  say  the  noble  lord  is  perfectly  well  read,  because  the 
duty  of  his  particular  office  requires  he  should  be  so,  in  all 
our  revenue  laws  ;  and  in  the  policy  which  is  to  be  collected 
out  of  them.  Now,  Sir,  when  he  had  read  this  act  of  Amer- 
ican revenue,  and  a  little  recovered  from  his  astonishment,  I 
suppose  he  made  one  step  retrograde  (it  is  but  one)  and  look- 
ed at  the  act  which  stands  just  before  in  the  statute  book. 
The  American  revenue  act  is  the  forty-fifth  chapter ;  the  oth- 
er to  which  I  refer  is  the  forty-fourth  of  the  same  session. 
These  two  acts  are  both  to  the  same  purpose  ;  both  revenue 
acts  ;  both  taxing  out  of  the  kingdom  ;  and  both  taxing  Brit- 
ish manufactures  exported.  As  the  45th  is  an  act  for  rais- 
ing a  revenue  in  America,  the  44th  is  an  act  for  raising  a 
revenue  in  the  Isle  of  Man.  The  two  acts  perfectly  agree  in 
all  respects,  except  one.  In  the  act  for  taxing  the  Isle  of 
Man,  the  noble  lord  will  find  (not,  as  in  the  American  act, 
four  or  five  articles)  but  almost  the  ivhole  body^  of  British 
manufactures,  taxed  from  two  and  a  half  to  fifteen  per  cent. 
and    some    articles,    such    as    that   of    spirits,  a  great  deal 


4,52  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

higher.  You  did  not  think  it  uncommercial  to  tax  the  whole 
mass  of  your  manufactures,  and,  let  me  add,  your  agriculture 
too  ;  for,  I  now  recollect,  British  corn  is  there  also  taxed  up  , 
to  ten  per  cent,  and  this  too  in  the  very  head  quarters,  the 
very  citadel  of  smuggling,  the  Isle  of  Man.  Now  will  the 
noble  lord  condescend  to  tell  me  why  he  repealed  the  taxes  on 
your  manufactures  sent  out  to  America,  and  not  the  taxes  on 
the  manufactures  exported  to  the  Isle  of  man  ?  The  princi- 
ple was  exactly  the  same,  the  objects  charged  infinitely  more 
extensive,  the  duties,  without  comparison  higher.  Why  ? 
why,  notwithstanding  all  his  childish  pretexts,  because  the 
taxes  were  quietly  submitted  to  in  the  Isle  of  Man  ;  and  be- 
cause they  raised  a  flame  in  America.  Your  reasons  were 
political,  not  commercial.  The  repeal  was'  made,  as  lord 
Hillsborough's  letter  well  expresses  it,  to  regain  *'  the  confi- 
dence and  affection  of  the  colonies,  on  which  the  glory  and 
safety  of  the  British  empire  depend.  A  wise  and  just  motive 
surelv,  if  ever  there  was  such.  But  the  mischief  and  dis- 
honour  is,  that  you  have  not  done  what  you  had  given  the 
colonies  just  cause  to  expect,  when  your  ministers  disclaimed 
the  idea  of  taxes  for  a  revenue.  There  is  nothing  simple, 
nothing  manly,  nothing  ingenuous,  open,  decisive,  or  steady, 
in  the  proceeding,  with  regard  either  to  the  continuance  or 
the  repeal  of  the  taxes.  The  whole  has  an  air  of  littleness 
and  fraud.  The  article  of  tea  is  slurred  over  in  the  circular 
letter,  as  it  were  by  accident — nothing  is  said  of  a  resolution 
either  to  keep  that  tax,  or  to  give  it  up.  There  is  no  fair 
dealing  in  any  part  of  the  transaction. 

If  you  mean  to  follow  your  true  motive  and  your  publick 
faith,  give  up  your  tax  on  tea  for  raising  a  revenue,  the  prin- 
ciple of  which  has,  in  effect,  been  disclaimed  in  your  name  ; 
and  which  produces  you  no  advantage  ;  no,  not  a  penny.  Or, 
if  you  choose  to  go  on  with  a  poor  pretence  instead  of  a  sol- 
id reason,  and  will  still  adhere  to  your  cant  of  commerce, 
you  have  ten  thousand  times  more  strong  commercial  reasons 
for  giving  up  this  duty  on  tea,  than  for  abandoning  the  five 
others  that  you  have  already  renounced. 

The  American  consumption  of  teas  is  annually,  I  believe, 
worth  300,000/.  at  the  least  farthing.  If  you  urge  the  Amer- 
ican violence  as  a  justification  of  your  perseverance  in  enforc- 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  455 

ing  this  tax,  you  know  that  you  can  never  answer  this  plain 
question — Why  did  you  repeal  the  others  given  in  the  same 
act,  whilst  the  very  same  violence  subsisted  ? — But  you  did 
not  iind  the  violence  cease  upon  that  concession, — No  !  be- 
cause the  concession  was  far  short  of  satisfying  the  principle 
which  lord  Hillsborough  had  abjured  !  or  even  the  pretence 
on  which  the  repeal  of  the  other  taxes  was  announced  : 
and  because,  by  enabling  the  East  India  company  to  open  a 
shop  for  defeating  the  American  resolution  not  to  pay  that  spe- 
cifick  tax,  you  manifestly  shewed  a  hankering  after  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  act  which  you  formerly  had  renounced.  What- 
ever road  you  take  leads  to  a  compliance  with  this  motion.  It 
opens  to  you  at  the  end  of  every  visto.  Your  commerce,  your 
policy,  your  promises,  your  reasons,  your  pretences,  your  con- 
sistency, your  inconsistency,  all  jointly  oblige  you  to  this  repeal. 

But  still  it  sticks  in  our  throats,  if  we  go  so  far,  the  Amer- 
icans will  go  farthar. — We  do  not  know  that.  We  ought, 
from  experience,  rather  presume  to  the  contrary.  Do  we  not 
know  for  certain,  that  the  Americans  are  going  on  as  fast  as 
possible,  whilst  we  refuse  to  gratify  them  .''  can  they  do  more, 
or  can  they  do  worse,  if  we  yield  this  point  ?  I  think  this 
concession  will  rather  fix  a  turnpike  to  prevent  a  further  prog- 
ress. It  is  impossible  to  answer  for  bodies  of  men.  But  I 
am  sure  the  natural  eiFect  of  fidelity,  clemency,  kindness  in 
governours,  is  peace,  good-will,  order,  and  esteem,  on  the 
part  of  the  governed.  I  would  certainly,  at  least,  give  these 
fair  principles  a  fair  trial  ;  which,  since  the  making  of  this 
act  to  this  hour,  they  never  have  had. 

Sir,  the  honourable  gentleman  having  spoken  what  he 
thought  necessary  upon  the  narrow  part  of  the  subject,  I  have 
given  him,  I  hope,  a  satisfactory  answer.  He  next  presses 
me  by  a  variety  of  direct  challenges  and  oblique  reflections  to 
say  something  on  the  historical  part.  I  shall  therefore,  Sir, 
open  myself  fully  on  that  important  and  delicate  subject  ;  not 
for  the  sake  of  telling  you  a  long  story  (which,  I  know,  Mr. 
Speaker,  you  are  not  particularly  fond  of),  but  for  the  sake 
of  the  weighty  instruction  that,  I  flatter  myself,  will  necessa- 
rily result  from  it.  It  shall  not  be  longer,  if  I  can  help  it, 
than  so  serious  a  matt'er  requires. 

Permit  me  then.  Sir,  to  lead  your  attention  very  far  back  \ 
back  to  the  act  of  navigation  ;  the  corner  stone  of  the  policy 


4.54<  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

of  this  country  with  regard  to  its  colonies.  Sir,  that  policy 
was,  from  the  beginning,  purely  commercial  j  and  the  com- 
mercial system  was  wholly  restrictive.  It  was  the  system  of 
a  monopoly.  No  trade  was  let  loose  from  that  constraint,  but 
merely  to  enable  the  colonists  to  dispose  of  what,  in  the  course 
of  your  trade,  you  could  not  take  ;  or  to  enable  them  to  dis- 
pose of  such  articles  as  we  forced  upon  them,  and  for  which, 
without  some  degree  of  liberty,  they  could  not  pay.  Hence 
all  your  specifick  and  detailed  enumerations  :  hence  the  in- 
numerable checks  and  counterchecks  :  hence  that  infinite 
variety  of  paper  chains  by  which  you  bind  together  this  com- 
plicated system  of  the  colonies.  This  principle  of  commercial 
monopoly  runs  through  no  less  than  twenty-nine  acts  of  par- 
liament, from  the  year  1660  to  the  unfortunate  period  of  1 764-. 
In  all  those  acts  the  system  of  commerce  is  established,  as 
that,  from  whence  alone  you  proposed  to  make  the  colonies 
contribute  (I  mean  directly  and  by  the  operation  of  your 
superintending  legislative  power)  to  the  strength  of  the  em- 
pire. I  venture  to  say,  that  during  that  whole  period,  a 
parliamentary  revenue  from  thence  was  never  once  in  con- 
templation. Accordingly,  in  all  the  number  of  laws  passed 
with  regard  to  the  plantations,  the  words  which  distinguish 
revenue  laws,  specifically  as  such,  were,  I  think,  premedi- 
tately  avoided.  I  do  not  say.  Sir,  that  a  form  of  words  al- 
ters the  nature  of  the  law,  or  abridges  the  power  of  the  law- 
giver. It  certainly  does  not.  However,  titles  and  formal 
preambles  are  not  always  idle  words  •,  and  the  lawyers  fre- 
quently argue  from  them.  I  state  these  facts  to  shew,  not 
what  was  your  right,  but  what  has  been  your  settled  policy. 
Our  revenue  laws  have  usually  a  title,  purporting  their  being 
grants ;  and  the  words  give  and  grant  usually  precede  the 
enacting  parts.  Although  duties  were  imposed  on  America 
in  acts  of  King  Charles  the  Second,  and  in  acts  of  King 
William,  no  one  title  of  giving  "  an  aid  to  his  majesty,"  or 
any  other  of  the  usual  titles  to  revenue  acts,  was  to  be  found 
in  any  of  them  till  1764<  ;  nor  were  the  words  "  give  and 
grant"  in  any  preamble  until  the  6th  of  George  the  Second. 
However  the  title  of  this  act  of  George  the  Second,  notwith- 
standing the  words  of  donation,  considers  it  merely  as  a  reg- 
ulation of  trade,  "  an  act  for  the  better  securing  of  the  trade 
of  his  majesty's  sugar  colonies  in   America."     This   act  was 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  455 

made  on  a  compromise  of  all,  and  at  the  express  desire  of  a 
part,  of  the  colonies  themselves.  It  was  therefore  in  some 
measure  with  their  consent  •,  and  having  a  title  directly  pur- 
porting only  a  commercial  regulation^  and  being  in  truth  noth- 
ing more,  the  words  were  passed  by,  at  a  time  when  no  jeal- 
ousy was  entertained,  and  things  were  little  scrutinized.  Even 
Governour  Bernard,  in  his  second  printed  letter,  dated  in 
1763,  gives  it  as  his  opinion,  that  "  it  was  an  act  of  prohibi- 
tion, not  of  revenue."  This  is  certainly  true,  that  no  act 
avowedly  for  the  purpose  of  revenue,  and  with  the  ordinary 
title  and  recital  taken  together,  is  found  in  the  statute  book 
until  the  year  I  have  mentioned  ;  that  is,  the  year  1764<. 
All  before  this  period  stood  on  commercial  regulation  and 
restraint.  The  scheme  of  a  colony  revenue  by  British  au- 
thority appeared  therefore  to  the  Americans  in  the  light  of  a 
great  Innovation  ;  the  words  of  Governour  Bernard's  ninth 
letter,  written  in  Nov.  1765,  state  this  idea  very  strongly  ; 
**  it  must,"  says  he,  *'  have  been  supposed,  such  an  innovation 
tts  a  parliamentary  taxation,  would  cause  a  great  alarm,  and  meet 
with  much  opposition  in  most  parts  of  America  ;  it  was  quite 
new  to  the  people,  and  had  no  visible  bounds  set  to  it."  After 
stating  the  weakness  of  government  there,  he  says,  <'  was 
this  a  time  to  introduce  so  great  a  novelty  as  a  parliamentary 
inland  taxation  in  America  ?"  Whatever  the  right  might 
have  been,  this  mode  of  using  it  was  absolutely  new  in  policy 
and  practice. 

Sir,  they  who  are  friends  to  the  schemes  of  American  rev- 
enue say,  that  the  commercial  restraint  is  full  as  hard  a  law 
for  America  to  live  under.  I  think  so  too.  I  think  it,  if  un- 
compensated, to  be  a  condition  of  as  rigorous  servitude  as 
men  can  be  subject  to.  But  America  bore  it  from  the  fund- 
amental act  of  navigation  until  1764. — Why  ?  because  men 
do  bear  the  inevitable  constitution  of  their  original  nature 
with  all  its  infirmities.  The  act  of  navigation  attended  the 
colonies  from  their  infancy,  grew  with  their  growth,  and 
strengthened  with  their  strength.  They  were  confirmed  in 
obedience  to  it,  even  more  by  usage  than  by  law.  They 
scarcely  had  remembered  a  time  when  they  were  not  subject 
to  such  restraint.  Besides,  they  were  indemnified  for  it  bv  a 
pecuniary  compensation.     Their  monopolist  happened  to  be 


456  ^IR-  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

one  of  the  richest  men  In  the  world.  By  his  immense  capi- 
tal (pimarily  employed,  not  for  their  benefit,  but  his  own) 
they  were  enabled  to  proceed  with  their  fisheries,  their  agri- 
culture, their  ship-building  (and  their  trade  too  within  the 
limits),  in  such  a  manner  as  got  far  the  start  of  the  slow  lan- 
guid operations  of  unassisted  nature.  This  capital  was  a 
hot-bed  to  them.  Nothing  in  the  history  of  mankind  is  like 
their  progress.  For  my  part,  I  never  cast  an  eye  on  their 
flourishing  commerce,  and  their  cultivated  and  commodious 
life,  but  they  seem  to  me  rather  antient  nations  grown  to  per- 
fection through  a  long  series  of  fortunate  events,  and  a  train 
of  successful  industry,  accumulating  wealth  in  many  centu- 
ries, than  the  colonies  of  yesterday  ;  than  a  set  of  miserable 
out-casts,  a  few  years  ago,  not  so  much  sent  as  thrown  out, 
on  the  bleak  and  barren  shore  of  a  desolate  wilderness  three 
thousand  miles  from  all  civilized  intercourse. 

All  this  was  done  by  England,  whilst  England  pursued 
trade,  and  forgot  revenue.  You  not  only  acquired  com- 
merce, but  you  actually  created  the  very  objects  of  trade  in 
America  ;  and  by  that  creation  you  raised  the  trade  of  this 
kingdom  at  least  four-fold.  America  had  the  compensation 
of  your  capital,  which  made  her  bear  her  servitude.  She  had 
another  compensation,  which  you  are  now  going  to  take  away 
from  her.  She  had,  except  the  commercial  restraint,  every 
characteristick  mark  of  a  free  people  in  all  her  internal  con- 
cerns. She  had  the  image  of  the  British  constitution.  She 
had  the  substance.  She  was  taxed  by  her  own  representa- 
tives. She  chose  most  of  her  own  magistrates.  She  paid 
them  all.  She  had  in  effect  the  sole  disposal  of  her  own  in- 
ternal government.  This  whole  state  of  commercial  servi- 
tude and  civil  liberty,  taken  together,  is  certainly  not  perfect 
freedom  ;  but  comparing  It  with  the  ordinary  circumstances 
of  human  nature.  It  was  an  happy  and  a  liberal  condition. 

I  know,  Sir,  that  great  and  not  unsuccessful  pains  have 
been  taken  to  Inflame  our  minds  by  an  outcry,  in  this  house 
and  out  of  it,  that  in  America  the  act  of  navigation  neither 
is,  or  ever  was,  obeyed.  But  if  you  take  the  colonies  through, 
I  affirm,  that  its  authority  never  was  disputed  ;  that  It  was 
no  where  disputed  for  any  length  of  time  ;  and  on  the  whole, 
that  it  was  well  observed.     Wherever  the  net  pressed  hard, 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  457 

many  individuals  indeed  evaded  it.  This  is  nothing.  These 
scattered  individuals  never  denied  the  law,  and  never  obeyed 
it.  Just  as  it  happens  whenever  the  laws  of  trade,  whenever 
the  laws  of  revenue,  press  hard  upon  the  people  in  England ; 
in  that  case  all  your  shores  are  full  of  contraband.  Your 
right  to  give  a  monopoly  to  the  East  India  company,  your 
right  to  lay  immense  duties  on  French  brandy,  are  not  dis- 
puted in  England.  You  do  not  make  this  charge  on  any 
man.  But  you  know  that  there  is  not  a  creek  from  Pent- 
land  Frith  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  in  which  they  do  not  smug- 
gle immense  quantities  of  teas.  East  India  goods,  and  bran- 
dies. I  take  it  for  granted,  that  the  authority  of  Governour 
Bernard  in  this  point  is  indisputable.  Speaking  of  these 
laws,  as  they  regarded  that  part  of  America  now  in  so  un- 
happy a  condition,  he  says,  "  I  believe  they  are  no  where 
better  supported  than  in  this  province  ;  I  do  not  pretend 
that  it  is  entirely  free  from  a  breach  of  these  laws  ;  but  that 
such  a  breach,  if  discovered,  is  justly  punished."  What 
more  can  you  say  of  the  obedience  to  any  laws  in  any  coun- 
try ?  An  obedience  to  these  laws  formed  the  acknowledg- 
ment, instituted  by  yourselves,  for  your  superiority  ;  and 
was  the  payment  you  originally  imposed  for  your  protection. 

Whether  you  were  right  or  wrong  in  establishing  the  col- 
onies on  the  principles  of  commercial  monopoly,  rather  than 
on  that  of  revenue,  is  at  this  day  a  problem  of  mere  specula- 
tion. You  cannot  have  both  by  the  same  authority.  To 
join  together  the  restraints  of  an  universal  internal  and  ex- 
ternal monopoly,  with  an  universal  internal  and  external  tax- 
ation, is  an  unnatural  union  ;  perfect  uncompensated  slavery. 
You  have  long  since  decided  for  yourself  and  them  ;  and 
you  and  thqy  have  prospered  exceedingly  under  that  decision. 

This  nation,  Sir,  never  thought  of  departing  from  that 
choice  until  the  period  immediately  on  the  close  of  the  last 
war.  Then  a  scheme  of  government  new  in  many  things 
seemed  to  have  been  adopted.  I  saw,  or  thought  I  saw,  sev- 
eral symptoms  of  a  great  change,  whilst  I  sat  in  your  gallery, 
a  good  while  before  I  had  the  honour  of  a  seat  in  this  house. 
At  that  period  the  necessity  was  established  of  keeping  up 
no  less  than  twenty  new  regiments,  with  twenty  colonels  ca- 
-pable  of  seats  in  this  house.     This  scheme  was  adopted  with 

Vol.  I.  M  M  m 


458  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

very  general  applause  from  all  sides,  at  the  very  time  that,  hj 
your  conquests  in  America,  your  danger  from  foreign  attempts 
in  that  part  of  the  world  was  much  lessened,  or  indeed  rather 
quite  over.  When  this  huge  increase  of  military  establish- 
ment was  resolved  on,  a  revenue  was  to  be  found  to  support 
so  great  a  burthen.  Country  gentlemen,  the  great  patrons 
of  economy,  and  the  great  resisters  of  a  standing  armed  force, 
would  not  have  entered  with  much  alacrity  into  the  vote  for 
so  large  and  so  expensive  an  army,  if  they  had  been  very 
sure  that  they  were  to  continue  to  pay  for  it.  But  hopes  of 
another  kind  were  held  out  to  them  ;  and  in  particular,  I 
well  remember,  that  Mr.  Townshend,  in  a  brilliant  harangue 
on  this  subject,  did  dazzle  them,  by  playing  before  their  eyes 
the  image  of  a  revenue  to  be  raised  in  America. 

Here  began  to  dawn  the  first  glimmerings  of  this  new 
colony  system.  It  appeared  more  distinctly  afterwards,  when 
it  was  devolved  upon  a  person  to  whom,  on  other  accounts, 
this  country  owes  very  great  obligations.  I  do  believe,  that 
he  had  a  very  serious  desire  to  benefit  the  publick.  But  with 
no  small  study  of  the  detail,  he  did  not  seem  to  have  his  view, 
at  least  equally,  carried  to  the  total  circuit  of  our  affairs. 
He  generally  considered  his  objects  in  lights  that  were  rather 
too  detached.  Whether  the  business  of  an  American  reve- 
nue was  imposed  upon  him  altogether  j  whether  it  was  en- 
tirely the  result  of  his  own  speculation  -,  or,  what  is  more 
probable,  that  his  own  ideas  rather  coincided  with  the  in- 
structions he  had  received  ;  certain  it  is,  that,  with  the  best 
intentions  in  the  world,  he  first  brought  this  fatal  scheme  in- 
to form,  and  established  it  by  act  of  parliament. 

No  man  can  believe,  that  at  this  time  of  day  I  mean  to 
lean  on  the  venerable  memory  of  a  great  man,  whose  loss 
we  deplore  in  common.  Our  little  party-differences  have 
been  long  ago  composed  ;  and  I  have  acted  more  with  him, 
and  certainly  with  more  pleasure  with  him,  than  ever  I  act- 
ed against  him.  Undoubtedly  Mr.  Grenville  was  a  first-rate 
figure  in  this  country.  With  a  masculine  understanding, 
and  a  stout  and  resolute  heart,  he  had  an  application  undis- 
sipated  and  unwearied.  He  took  publick  business,  not  as  a 
duty  which  he  was  to  fulfil,  but  as  a  pleasure  he  was  to  enjoy  ; 
and  he  seemed  to  have  no  delight  out  of  this  house,  except 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  459 

in  such  things  as  some  way  related  to  the  business  that  was 
to  be  done  within  It.  If  he  was  ambitious,  I  will  say  this  for 
him,  his  ambition  was  of  a  noble  and  generous  strain.  It 
was  to  raise  himself,  not  by  the  low  pimping  politicks  of  a 
court,  but  to  win  his  way  to  power,  through  the  laborious 
gradations  of  publick  service  ;  and  to  secure  himself  a  well- 
earned  rank  In  parliament,  by  a  thorough  knowledge  of  its 
constitution,  and  a  perfect  practice  in  all  its  business. 

Sir,  if  such  a  man  fell  into  errours,  it  must  be  from  de- 
fects not  Intrinsical  •,  they  must  be  rather  sought  in  the  par- 
ticular habits  of  his  life  j  which,  though  they  do  not  alter 
the  ground-work  of  character,  yet  tinge  it  with  their  own 
hue.  He  was  bred  in  a  profession.  He  was  bred  to  the 
law,  which  is,  in  my  opinion,  one  of  the  first  and  noblest  of 
human  sciences  -,  a  science  which  does  more  to  quicken  and 
invigorate  the  understanding,  than  all  the  other  kinds  of 
learning  put  together  j  but  It  Is  not  apt,  except  In  persons 
very  happily  born,  to  open  and  to  liberalise  the  mind  exact- 
ly In  the  same  proportion.  Passing  from  that  study  he  did 
Slot  go  very  largely  Into  the  world  ;  but  plunged  Into  busi- 
ness ;  I  mean  Into  the  business  of  office  ■,  and  the  limited  and 
fixed  methods  and  forms  established  there.  Much  knowl- 
edge is  to  be  had  undoubtedly  in  that  line  ;  and  there  is  no 
knowledge  which  is  not  valuable.  But  it  may  be  truly  said, 
that  men  too  much  conversant  In  office,  are  rarely  minds  of 
remarkable  enlargement.  Their  habits  of  office  are  apt  to 
give  them  a  turn  to  think  the  substance  of  business  not  to  be 
much  more  important  than  the  forms  in  which  it  is  conduct- 
ed. These  forms  are  adapted  to  ordinary  occasions  ;  and 
therefore  persons  who  are  nurtured  In  office,  do  admirably 
well,  as  long  as  things  go  on  In  their  common  order  ;  but 
when  the  high  roads  are  broken  up,  and  the  waters  out,  when  a 
new  andtroubled  scene  is  opened,  and  the  fileaffiDrdsno  prece- 
'dent,  then  It  is  that  a  greater  knowledge  of  mankind,  and  a  far 
more  extensive  comprehension  of  things  is  requisite  than  ev- 
er office  gave,  or  than  office  can  ever  give.  Mr.  Grenville 
thought  better  of  the  wisdom  and  power  of  human  legislation 
than  in  truth  it  deserves.  He  conceived,  and  many  con- 
ceived along  with  him,  that  the  flourishing  trade  of  this  coun- 
try was  greatly  owing  to  law  and  institution,  and  not  quite  so 


4.60  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

much  to  liberty  ;  for  but  too  many  are  apt  to  believe  regula- 
tion to  be  commerce,  and  taxes  to  be  revenue.  Among  reg- 
ulations, that  which  stood  first  in  reputation  was  his  idol.  I 
mean  the  act  of  navigation.  He  has  often  professed  it  to  be 
so.  The  policy  of  that  act  is,  I  readily  admit,  in  many  re- 
spects well  understood.  But  I  do  say,  that  if  the  act  be  suf- 
fered to  run  the  full  length  of  its  principle,  and  is  not  chang- 
ed and  modified  according  to  the  change  of  times  and  the 
fluctuation  of  circumstances,  it  must  do  great  mischief,  and 
frequently  even  defeat  its  own  purpose. 

Afcer  the  war,  and  in  the  last  years  of  it,  the  trade  of  A- 
mcrica  had  increased  far  beyond  the  speculations  of  the  most 
sanguine  imaginations.    It  swelled  out  on  every  side.  It  filled 
.  all  its  proper   channels  to    the  brim.     It  overflowed  with  a 
rich  redundance,  and  breaking  its  banks  on  the  right  and  on 
the  left,  it  spread  out  upon  some  places,  where  it  was  indeed 
improper,  upon  others  where  it  was  only  irregular.     It  is  the 
nature  of  all  greatness  not  to  be  exact ;   and  great  trade  will 
always  be  attended  with  considerable    abuses.     The    contra- 
band will  always   keep   pace  in  some  measure  with   the  fair 
trade.     It  should  stand  as  a  fundamental  maxim,  that  no  vul- 
gar precaution  ought    to   be  employed  in  the  cure  of  evils, 
which  are  closely  connected  with  the  cause  of  our  prosperity. 
Perhaps  this  great  person  turned  his  eyes  somewhat  less  than 
was  just,  towards  the  incredible  increase  of  the  fair  trade  ; 
and  looked  with  something  of  too  exquisite  a  jealousy  towards 
the  contraband.     He  certainly  felt  a  singular  degree  of  anx- 
iety on  the  subject  ;   and  even  began  to  act  from  that  passion 
earlier  than  is  commonly  imagined.     For  whilst  he  was  first 
lord  of  the  admiralty,  though  not  strictly  called  upon  in  his 
official  line,  he  presented  a  very  strong  memorial  to  the  lords 
of  the  treasury  (my  Lord    Bute  was  then  at  the  head  of  the 
board)  j  heavily  complaining  of  the  growth  of  the  illicit  com- 
merce   in    America.     Some  mischief  happened  even  at  that 
time  from  this  over-earnest  zeal.     Much  greater  happened 
afterwards  when  it  operated  with  greater  power  in  the  high- 
est department  of  the  finances.     The  bonds  of  the  act  of  nav- 
gation  were  straitened    so   much,  that  America  was  on  the 
point  of  having   no    trade,    either  contraband  or  legitimate. 
They  found,  under  the  construction  and  execution  then  used, 


ON  AMERKAN  TAXATION.  46 1 

the  act  no  longer  tying  but  actually  strangling  them.  All 
this  coming  with  new  enumerations  of  commodities  ;  with 
reguiarions  which  in  a  manner  put  a  stop  to  the  mutual  coast- 
ing intercourse  of  the  colonies  ;  with  the  appointment  of 
courts  of  admiralty  under  various  improper  circumstances  j 
with  a  sudden  extinctionof  the  paper  currencies  j  with  a  com- 
pulsory provision  for  the  quartering  of  soldiers  5  the  people 
of  America  thought  themselves  proceeded  against  as  delin- 
quents, or  at  best  as  people  under  suspicion  of  delinquency  ; 
and  in  such  a  manner,  as  they  imagined,  their  recent  services 
in  the  war  did  not  at  all  merit.  Any  of  these  innumerable 
reguhitions,  perhaps,  would  not  have  alarmed  alone  ;  some 
might  be  thought  reasonable  }  the  multitude  struck  them 
with  terrour. 

But  the  grand  manoeuvre  in  that  business  of  new  regulat- 
ing the  colonies,  was  the  15th  act  of  the  fourth  of  George 
III  ;  which,  besides  containing  several  of  the  matters  to  which 
I  have  just  alluded,  opened  a  new  principle  :  and  here  prop- 
erly began  the  second  period  of  the  policy  of  this  country 
with  regard  to  the  colonies  ;  by  which  the  scheme  of  a  regu- 
lar plantation  parliamentary  revenue  was  adopted  in  theory, 
and  settled  in  practice.  A  revenue  not  substituted  in  the 
place  of,  but  superadded  to,  a  monopoly  j  which  monopoly 
was  enforced  at  the  same  time  with  additional  strictness,  and 
the  execution  put  into  military  hands. 

This  act,  Sir,  had  for  the  first  time  the  title  of  «  granting 
duties  in  the  colonies  and  plantations  of  America  ;"  and  for 
the  first  time  it  was  asserted  in  the  preamble,  "  that  it  was 
just  and  necessary  that  a  revenue  should  be  raised  there." 
Then  came  the  technical  words  of  *'  giving  and  granting," 
and  thus  a  complete  American  revenue  act  was  made  in  all 
the  forms,  and  with  a  full  avowal  of  the  right,  equity,  policy, 
and  even  necessity  of  taxing  the  colonies,  without  any  formal 
consent  of  theirs.  There  are  contained  also  in  the  preamble 
to  that  act  these  very  remarkable  words — the  commons,  &c. 
— "  being  desirous  to  make  some  provision  in  the  present  ses- 
sion of  parliament  towards  raising  the  said  revenue."  By 
these  words  it  appeared  to  the  colonies,  that  this  act  was  but 
a  beginning  of  sorrows  ;  that  every  session  was  to  produce 
something  of  the  same  kind  ;  that  we  were  to  go  on  from 


4.62  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

day  to  day,  in  charging  them  with  such  taxes  as  we  pleased, 
for  such  a  miHtary  force  as  we  should  think  proper.  Had  this 
plan  been  pursued,  it  was  evident  that  the  provincial  assem- 
blies, in  which  the  Americans  felt  all  their  portion  of  impor- 
tance, and  beheld  their  sole  image  of  freedom,  were  ipso  facto 
annihilated.  This  ill  prospect  before  them  seemed  to  be 
boundless  in  extent,  and  endless  in  duration.  Sir,  they  were 
not  mistaken.  The  ministry  valued  themselves  when  this  act 
passed,  and  when  they  gave  notice  of  the  stamp  act,  that  both 
of  the  duties  came  very  short  of  their  ideas  of  American  tax- 
ation. Great  was  the  applause  of  this  measure  here.  In 
England  we  cried  out  for  new  taxes  on  America,  whilst  they 
cried  out  that  they  were  nearly  crushed  with  those  which  the 
war  and  their  own  grants  hati'hrought  upon  them. 

Sir,  it  has  been  said  in  the  debate,  that  when  the  first  A- 
merican  revenue  act  (the  act  in  ITG^,  imposing  the  port  du- 
ties) passed,  the  Americans  did  not  object  to  the  principle.  It 
is  true  they  touched  it  but  very  tenderly.  It  was  not  a  di- 
rect attack.  They  were,  it  is  true,  as  yet  novices  ;  as  yet 
unaccustomed  to  direct  attacks  upon  any  of  the  rights  of  par- 
liament. The  duties  were  port  duties,  like  those  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  bear  ;  with  this  difference,  that  the  title 
was  not  the  same,  the  preamble  not  the  same,  and  the  spirit 
altogether  unlike.  But  of  what  service  is  this  observation  to 
the  cause  of  those  that  make  it  ?  It  is  a  full  refutation  of  the 
pretence  for  their  present  cruelty  to  America  ;  for  it  shews, 
out  of  their  own  mouths,  that  our  colonies  were  backward  to 
enter  into  the  present  vexatious  and  ruinous  controversy. 

There  is  also  another  circulation  abroad,  (spread  with  a 
malignant  intention,  which  I  cannot  attribute  to  those  who 
say  the  same  thing  in  this  house)  that  Mr.  Grenville  gave 
the  colony  agents  an  option  for  their  assemblies  to  tax  them- 
selves, which  they  had  refused.  I  find  that  much  stress  is 
laid  on  this,  as  a  fact.  However,  it  happens  neither  to  be 
true  nor  possible.  I  will  observe  first,  that  Mr.  Grenville 
never  thought  fit  to  make  this  apology  for  himself  in  the  in- 
numerable debates  that  were  had  upon  the  subject.  He  might 
have  proposed  to  the  colony  agents,  that  they  should  agree 
in  some  mode  of  taxation  as  the  ground  of  an  act  of  parlia- 
ment.      But  he    never   could    have   proposed    that    they 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  463 

ihould  tax  themselves  on  requisition,  which  is  the  assertion 
of  the  day.  Indeed,  Mr.  Grenville  well  knew,  that  the 
colony  agents  could  have  no  general  powers  to  consent  to  it ; 
and  they  had  no  time  to  consult  their  assemblies  for  particular 
powers,  before  he  passed  his  first  revenue  act.  If  you  com- 
pare dates,  you  will  find  it  impossible.  Burthened  as  the 
agents  knew  the  colonies  were  at  that  time,  they  could  not 
give  the  least  hope  of  such  grants.  His  own  favourite  gov- 
ernour  was  of  opinion  that  the  Americans  were  not  then  tax- 
able objects  : 

<«  Nor  was  the  time  less  favourable  to  the  equity  of  such  a 
taxation.  I  don't  mean  to  dispute  the  reaso?iableness  of  Anwrica 
contributing  to  the  charges  of  Great  Britain  when  she  is  able  ; 
«or,  /  believe^  would  the  Americans  themselves  have  disputed  it, 
at  a  proper  time  and  season.  But  it  should  be  consideredy  that 
the  American  governments  themselves  have,  in  the  prosecution  of 
the  late  war,  contracted  very  large  debts ;  which  it  will  take 
some  years  to  pay  off,  and  in  the  mean  time  occasion  very  burden- 
some taxes  for  that  purpose  only.  For  instance,  this  govern-' 
ment,  ivhich  is  as  much  before-hatid  as  any,  raises  every  year 
37,5001.  sterling  for  sinking  their  debt,  and  must  continue  it  for 
four  years  longer  at  least  before  it  •will  be  clear T 

These  are  the  words  of  Governour  Bernard's  letter  to  a 
member  of  the  old  ministry,  and  which  he  has  since  printed. 
Mr.  Grenville  could  not  have  made  this  proposition  to  the 
agents,  for  another  reason.  He  was  of  opinion,  which  he 
has  declared  in  this  house  an  hundred  times,  that  the  colonies 
could  not  legally  grant  any  revenue  to  the  crown  ;  and  that 
infinite  mischiefs  would  be  the  consequence  of  such  a  power. 
When  Mr.  Grenville  had  passed  the  first  revenue  act,  and  in 
the  same  session  had  made  this  house  come  to  a  resolution 
for  laying  a  stamp-duty  on  America,  between  that  time  and 
the  passing,  the  stamp-act  into  a  law,  he  told  a  considerable 
and  most  respectable  merchant,  a  member  of  this  house, 
whom  I  am  truly  sorry  I  do  not  now  see  in  his  place,  when 
he  represented  against  this  proceeding,  that  if  the  stamp- 
duty  was  disliked,  he  was  willing  to  exchange  it  for  any  other 
equally  productive  ;  but  that,  if  he  objected  to  the  Ameri- 
cans being  taxed  by  parliament,  he  might  save  himself  the 
trouble  of  the  discussion,  as  he  was  determined  on  the  mcas- 


4.64?  ^^^-  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

ure.     This  is  the  fact,  and,  if  you  please,  I  will  mention  a 
very  unquestionable  authority  for  it. 

Thus,  Sir,  I  have  disposed  of  this  falsehood.  But  false- 
hood has  a  perennial  spring.  It  is  said,  that  no  conjecture 
could  be  made  of  the  dislike  of  the  colonies  to  the  principle. 
This  is  as  untrue  as  the  other.  After  the  resolution  of  the 
house,  and  before  the  passing  of  the  stamp-act,  the  col- 
onies of  Massachusett's  Bay  and  New  York  did  send  remon- 
strances, objecting  to  this  mode  of  parliamentary  taxation. 
What  was  the  consequence  ?  They  were  suppressed  ;  they 
were  put  under  the  table  ;  notwithstanding  an  order  of  coun- 
cil to  the  contrary,  by  the  ministry  which  composed  the  very 
council  that  had  made  the  order  ;  and  thus  the  house  pro- 
ceeded to  its  business  of  taxing  without  the  least  regular 
knowledge  of  the  objections  which  were  made  to  it.  But  to 
give  that  house  its  due,  it  was  not  over  desirous  to  receive 
information,  or  to  hear  remonstrance.  On  the  1 5th  of  Feb- 
ruary 1765,  whilst  the  stamp-act  was  under  deliberation, 
they  refused  with  scorn  even  so  much  as  to  receive  four  peti- 
tions presented  from  so  respectable  colonies  as  Connecticut, 
Rhode  Island,  Virginia,  and  Carolina  ;  besides  one  from  the 
traders  of  Jamaica.  As  to  the  colonies,  they  had  no  alterna- 
tive left  to  them,  but  to  disobey  j  or  to  pay  the  taxes  im- 
posed by  that  parliament  which  was  not  suffered,  or  did  not 
suffer  itself,  even  to  hear  them  remonstrate  upon  the  subject. 

This  was  the  state  of  the  colonies  before  his  majesty  thought 
fit  to  change  his  ministers.  It  stands  upon  no  authority  of 
mine.  It  is  proved  by  uncontrovertible  records.  The  hon- 
ourable gentleman  has  desired  some  of  us  to  lay  our  hands 
upon  our  hearts,  and  answer  to  his  queries  upon  the  historical 
part  of  this  consideration  ;  and  by  his  manner  (as  well  as  my 
eyes  could  discern  it)  he  seemed  to  address  himself  to  me. 

Sir,  I  will  answer  him  as  clearly  as  I  am  able,  and  with 
great  openness  -,  I  have  nothing  to  conceal.  In  the  year  fix- 
ty-five,  being  in  a  very  private  station,  far  enough  from  any 
line  of  business,  and  not  having  the  honour  of  a  seat  in  this 
house,  it  was  my  fortune,  unknowing  and  unknown  to  the 
then  ministry,  by  the  intervention  of  a  common  friend,  to 
become  connected  with  a  very  noble  person,  and  at  the  head 
of  the  treasury  department.     It  was  indeed  in  a  situation  of 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  465 

little  rank  and  no  consequence,  suitable  to  the  mediocrity  of 
my  talents  and  pretensions.  But  a  situation  near  enough  to 
enable  me  to  see,  as  well  as  others,  what  was  going  on  j  and 
I  did  see  in  that  noble  person  such  sound  principles,  such  an 
enlargement  of  mind,  such  clear  and  sagacious  sense,  and 
such  unshaken  fortitude,  as  have  bound  me,  as  well  as  others 
much  better  than  me,  by  an  inviolable  attachment  to  him 
from  that  time  forward.  Sir,  Lord  Rockingham  very  early 
in  that  summer  received  a  strong  reprcientation  from  many 
weighty  English  merchants  and  manufacturers,  from  gover- 
nours  of  provinces  and  commanders  of  men  of  war,  against 
almost  the  whole  of  the  American  commercial  regulations  : 
and  particularly  with  regard  to  the  total  ruin  which  was 
threatened  to  the  Spanish  trade.  I  believe.  Sir,  the  noble 
lord  soon  saw  his  way  in  this  business.  But  he  did  not  rash- 
ly determine  against  acts  which  it  might,  be  supposed  were 
the  result  of  much  deliberation.  However,  Sir,  he  scarcely 
began  to  open  the  ground,  when  the  whole  veteran  body  of 
office  took  the  alarm.  A  violent  outcry  of  all  (except  those 
who  knew  and  felt  the  mischief)  was  raised  against  any  alter- 
ation. On  one  hand,  his  attempt  was  a  direct  violation  of 
treaties  and  publick  law. — On  the  other,  the  act  of  naviga- 
tion and  all  the  corps  of  trade  laws  were  drawn  up  in  array 
against  it. 

The  first  step  the  noble  lord  took,  was  to  have  the  opinion 
of  his  excellent,  learned,  and  ever-lamented  friend  the  late 
Mr.  Yorke,  then  attorney-general,  on  the  point  of  law. 
When  he  knew  that  formally  and  officially,  which  in  sub- 
stance he  had  known  before,  he  immediately  dispatched  or- 
ders to  redress  the  grievance.  But  I  will  say  it  for  the  then 
minister,  he  is  of  that  constitution  of  mind,  that  I  know  he 
would  have  issued,  on  the  same  critical  occasion,  the  very 
same  orders,  if  the  acts  of  trade  had  been,  as  they  were  not, 
directly  against  him  ;  and  would  have  chearfuUy  submitted 
to  the  equity  of  parliament  for  his  indemnity. 

On  the  conclusion  of  this  business  of  the  Spanish  trade, 
the  news  of  the  troubles,  on  account  of  the  stamp-act,  arrived 
in  England.  It  was  not  until  the  end  of  October  that  these 
accounts  were  received.     No  sooner  had  the  sound  of  that 

Vol.  I.  N  N  n 


466  5MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

mighty  tempest  reached  us  in  England,  than  the  whole  ot 
the  then  opposition,  instead  of  feeling  humbled  by  the  unhap- 
py issue  of  their  measures,  seemed  to  be  infinitely  elated,  and 
cried  out,  that  the  ministry,  from  envy  to  the  glory  of  their 
predecessors,  were  prepared  to  repeal  the  stamp-act.  Near 
nine  years  after,  the  honourable  gentleman  takes  quite  oppo- 
site ground,  and  now  challenges  me  to  put  my  hand  to  my 
heart,  and  say,  whether  the  ministry  had  resolved  on  the  re- 
peal till  a  considerable  time  after  the  meeting  of  parliament. 
Though  I  do  not  very  well  know  what  the  honourable  gentle- 
man wishes  to  infer  from  the  admission,  or  from  the  denial, 
of  this  fact,  on  which  he  so  earnestly  adjures  me  ;  I  do  put 
my  hand  on  my  heart,  and  assure  him,  that  they  did  tiot  come 
to  a  resolution  directly  to  repeal.  They  weighed  this  matter 
as  its  difficulty  and  importance  required.  They  considered 
maturely  among  themselves.  They  consulted  with  all  who 
could  give  advice  or  information.  It  was  not  determined 
until  a  little  before  the  meeting  of  parliament  ;  but  it  was 
determined,  and  the  main  lines  of  their  own  plan  marked 
out,  before  that  meeting.  Tv/o  questions  arose  (I  hope  I  am 
not  going  into  a  narrative  troublesome  to  the  house) 

[A  cry  of,  go  on,  go  on.] 

The  first  of  the  two  considerations  was,  whether  the  repeal 
should  be  total,  or  whether  only  partial  ;  taking  out  every 
thing  burthensome  and  productive,  and  reserving  only  an  emp- 
ty acknowledgment,  such  as  a  stamp  on  cards  or  dice.  The 
other  question  was,  on  what  principle  the  act  should  be  re- 
pealed .''  On  this  head  also  two  principles  were  started.  One, 
that  the  legislative  rights  of  this  country,  with  regard  to 
America,  were  not  entire,  but  had  certain  restrictions  and 
Um.itations.  The  other  principle  was,  that  taxes  of  this  kind 
were  contrary  to  the  fundamental  principles  of  commerce  on 
which  the  colonies  were  founded  ;  and  contrary  to  every 
idea  of  political  equity  ;  by  which  equity  we  are  bound,  as 
much  as  possible,  to  extend  the  spirit  and  benefit  of  the  Brit- 
ish constitution  to  every  part  of  the  British  dominions.  The 
option,  both  of  the  measure,  and  of  the  principle  of  repeal, 
was  made  before  the  session  ;  and  I  wonder  how  any  one  can 
read  the  king's  speech  at  the  opening  of  that  session,  without 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  467 

seeing  in  that  speech  both  the  repeal  and  the  declaratory  act 
very  sufficiently  crayoned  out.  Those  who  cannot  see  this 
can  see  nothing. 

Surely  the  honourable  gentleman  will  not  think  that  a  great 
deal  less  time  than  was  then  employed,  ought  to  have  been 
spent  in  deliberation  ;  when  he  considers  that  the  news  of 
the  troubles  did  not  arrive  till  towards  the  end  of  October. 
The  parliament  sat  to  fill  the  vacancies  on  the  14th  day  of 
December,  and  on  business  the  14th  of  the  following  January. 

Sir,  a  partial  repeal,  or,  as  the  botz  ton  of  the  court  then  was, 
a  modification,  would  have  satisfied  a  timid,  unsystematick,  pro- 
crastinating ministry,  as  such  a  measure  has  since  done  such 
a  ministry.  A  modification  is  the  constant  resource  of  weak 
undeciding  minds.  To  repeal  by  a  denial  of  our  right  to 
tax  in  the  preamble  (and  this  too  did  not  want  advisers), 
would  have  cut,  in  the  heroick  style,  the  Gordian  knot  with 
a  sword.  Either  measure  would  have  cost  no  more  than  a 
day's  debate.  But  when  the  total  repeal  was  adopted  j  and 
adopted  on  principles  of  policy,  of  equity,  and  of  commerce  ; 
this  plan  made  it  necessary  to  enter  into  many  and  difficult 
measures.  It  became  necessary  to  open  a  very  large  field  of 
evidence  commensurate  to  these  extensive  views.  But  then 
this  labour  did  knight's  service.  It  opened  the  eyes  of  sev- 
eral to  the  true  state  of  the  American  affairs  ;  it  enlarged 
their  ideas  ;  it  removed  prejudices  j  and  it  conciliated  the 
opinions  and  affections  of  men.  The  noble  lord,  who  then 
took  the  lead  in  administration,  my  honourable  friend*  under 
me,  and  a  right  honourable  gentlemanf  (if  he  will  not  reject 
his  share,  and  it  was  a  large  one,  of  this  business)  exerted  the 
most  laudable  industry  in  bringing  before*  you  the  .fullest, 
most  impartial,  and  least-garbled  body  of  evidence  that  ever 
was  produced  to  this  house.  I  think  the  inquiry  lasted  in  the 
committee  for  six  weeks  ;  and  at  its  conclusion  this  house, 
by  an  independent,  noble,  spirited,  and  unexpected  majority  ; 
by  a  majority  that  will  redeem  all  the  acts  ever  done  by  ma- 
jorities in  parliament  ;  in  the  teeth  of  all  the  old  mercenary 
Swiss  of  state,  in  despite  of  all  the  speculators  and  augurs  of 
political  events,  in  defiance  of  the  whole  embattled  legion  of 

*  Mr. Dowdeswell.  f  General  Conway. 


468  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

veteran  pensioners  and  practised  instruments  of  a  court,  gave 
a  total  repeal  to  the  stamp-act,  and  (if  it  had  been  so  per- 
mitted) a  lasting  peace  to  this  whole  empire. 

I  state,  Sir,  these  particulars,  because  this  act  of  spirit  and 
fortitude  has  lately  been,  in  the  circulation  of  the  season,  and 
in  some  hazarded  declamations  in  this  house,  attributed  to 
timidity.  If,  Sir,  the  conduct  of  ministry,  in  proposing  the 
repeal,  had  arisen  from  timidity  with  regard  to  themselves,  it 
would  have  been  greatly  to  be  condemned.  Interested  ti- 
midity disgraces  as  much  in  the  cabinet,  as  personal  timidity 
does  in  the  field.  But  timidity,  with  regard  to  the  well-be- 
ing of  our  country,  is  heroick  virtue.  The  noble  lord  who 
then  conducted  affairs,  and  his  worthy  colleagues,  whilst  they 
trembled  at  the  prospect  of  such  distresses  as  you  have  since 
brought  upon  yourselves,  were  not  afraid  steadily  to  look  in 
the  face  that  glaring  and  dazzling  influence  at  which  the  eyes 
of  eagles  have  blenched.  He  looked  in  the  face  one  of 
the  ablest,  and,  let  me  say,  not  the  most  scrupulous  opposi- 
tions, that  perhaps  ever  was  in  this  house,  and  withstood  it, 
unaided  by,  even  one  of  the  usual  supports  of  administration. 
He  did  this  when  he  repealed  the  stamp-act.  He  looked  in 
the  face  a  person  he  had  long  respected  and  regarded,  and 
whose  aid  was  then  particularly  wanting  ;  I  mean  lord  Chat- 
ham.    He  did  this  when  he  passed  the  declaratory  act. 

It  is  now  given  out  for  the  usual  purposes,  by  the  usual 
emissaries,  that  lord  Rockingham  did  not  consent  to  the  re- 
peal  of  this  act  until  he  was  bullied  into  it  by  lord  Chatham  ; 
and  the  reporters  have  gone  so  far  as  publickly  to  assert,  in  a 
hundred  companies,  that  the  honourable  gentleman  under  the 
gallery*,  who  proposed  the  repeal  in  the  American  commit- 
tee, had  another  set  of  resolutions  in  his  pocket  directly  the 
reverse  of  those  he  moved.  These  artifices  of  a  desperate 
cause  are,  at  this  time  spread  abroad,  with  incredible  care,-  in 
every  part  of  the  town,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  com- 
panies ;  as  if  the  industry  of  the  circulation  were  to  make 
amends  for  the  absurdity  of  the  report. 

Sir,  whether  the  noble  lord  is  of  a  complexion  to  be  bulli- 
ed by  lord  Chatham,  or  by  any  man,  I  must  submit  to  those 

*  General  Conway. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  469 

■who  know  him.  I  confess,  when  I  look  back  to  that  time,  I 
consider  him  as  placed  in  one  of  the  most  trying  situations  in 
which,  perhaps,  any  man  ever  stood.  In  the  house  of  peers 
there  were  very  few  of  the  ministry,  out  of  the  noble  lord's 
own  particular  connexion,  (except  lord  Egmont,  who  acted, 
as  far  as  Ic  ould  discern,  an  honourable  and  manly  part,)  that 
did  not  look  to  some  other  future  arrangement,  which  warp- 
ed his  politicks.  There  were  in  both  houses  new  and  menac- 
ing appearances,  that  might  very  naturally  drive  any  other, 
than  a  most  resolute  minister,  from  his  measure  or  from  his 
station.  The  household  troops  openly  revolted.  The  allies 
of  ministry,  (those,  I  mean,  who  supported  some  of  their 
measures,  but  refused  responsibility  for  any)  endeavoured  to 
undermine  their  credit,  and  to  take  ground  that  must  be  fatal 
to  the  success  of  the  very  cause  which  they  would  be  thought 
to  countenance.  The  question  of  the  repeal  was  brought  on 
by  ministry  in  the  committee  of  this  house,  in  the  very  in- 
stant when  it  was  known  that  more  than  one  court  negocia- 
tion  was  carrying  on  with  the  heads  of  the  opposition.  Ev- 
ery thing,  upon  every  side,  was  full  of  traps  and  mines.  Earth 
below  shook  ;  heaven  above  menaced  ;  all  the  elements  of 
ministerial  safety  were  dissolved.  It  was  in  the  midst  of 
this  chaos  of  plots  and  counter-plots  ;  it  was  in  the  midst  of 
this  complicated  warfare  against  publick  opposition  and  pri- 
vate treachery,  that  the  firmness  of  that  noble  person  was  put 
to  the  proof.  He  never  stirred  from  his  ground  •,  no,  not 
an  inch.  He  remained  fixed  and  determined,  in  principle,  in 
measure,  and  in  conduct.  He  practised  no  managements. 
He  secured  no  retreat.     He  sought  no  apology. 

I  will  likewise  do  justice,  I  ought  to  do  it,  to  the  honoura- 
ble gentleman  who  led  us  in  this  house*.  Far  from  the  du- 
plicity wickedly  charged  on  him,  he  acted  his  part  with  alac- 
rity and  resolution.  We  all  felt  inspired  by  the  example  he 
gave  us,  down  even  to  myself,  the  weakest  in  that  phalanx. 
I  declare  for  one,  I  knew  well  enough  (it  could  not  be  con- 
cealed from  any  body)  the  true  state  of  things  ;  but,  in  my 
life,  I  never  came  with  so  much  spirits  into  this  house.  It 
was  a  time  for  a  man  to  act  in.     We  had  powerful  enemies  ; 


General  Conway. 


i70  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

but  we  had  faithful  and  determined  friends  ;  and  a  glorious 
cause.  We  had  a  great  battle  to  fight  j  but  we  had  the 
means  of  fighting  ;  not  as  now,  when  our  arms  are  tied  be- 
hind us.     We  did  fight  that  day  and  conquer. 

I  remember,  Sir,  with  a  melancholy  pleasure,  the  situation 
of  the  honourable  gentleman*  who  made  the  motion  for  the 
repeal  ;  In  that  crisis,  when  the  whole  trading  Interest  of  this 
empire,  crammed  Into  your  lobbies,  with  a  trembling  and 
anxious  expeciation,  waited,  almost  to  a  winter's  return  of 
light,  their  fate  from  your  resolutions.  When,  at  length  you 
had  determined  In  their  favour,  and  your  doors,  thrown  open, 
shewed  them  the  figure  of  their  deliverer  In  the  well-earned 
triumph  of  his  Important  victory,  from  the  whole  of  that  grave 
multitude  there  arose  an  involuntary  burst  of  gratitude  and 
transport.  They  jumped  upon  him  like  children  on  a  long 
absent  father.  They  clung  about  him  as  captives  about  their 
redeemer.  All  England,  all  America,  joined  to  his  applause. 
Nor  did  he  seem  insensible  to  the  best  of  all  earthly  rewards, 
the  love  and  admiration  of  his  fellow  citizens.  Hope  elevated 
and  joy  brightened  his  crest.  I  stood  near  him  ;  and  his  face, 
to  use  the  expression  of  the  scripture  of  the  first  martyr,  *'  his 
face  was  as  if  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel."  I  do  not 
know  how  others  feel  ;  but  if  I  had  stood  in  that  situation,  I 
never  would  have  exchanged  It  for  all  that  kings  In  their  pro- 
fusion could  bestow.  I  did  hope  that  that  day's  danger  and 
honour  would  have  been  a  bond  to  hold  us  all  together  for 
ever.  But,  alas  !  that,  with  other  pleasing  visions,  Is  long 
since  vanished. 

Sir,  this  act  of  supreme  magnanimity  has  been  represented, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  measure  of  an  administration,  that,  having 
no  scheme  of  their  own,  took  a  middle  line,  pilfered  a  bit 
from  one  side  and  a  bit  from  the  other.  Sir,  they  took  tio 
middle  lines.  They  differed  fundamentally  from  the  schemes 
of  both  parties ;  but  they  preserved  the  objects  of  both.  They 
preserved  the  authority  of  Great  Britain.  They  preserved 
the  equity  of  Great  Britain.  They  made  the  declaratory- 
act  ;  they  repealed  the  stamp-act.  They  did  both  ftdly  ; 
because  the  declaratory-act  was  ivithoiit  qualification  -,  and  the 

*  General  Conway. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  471 

repeal  of  the  stamp-act  total.     This  they  did  in  the  situation. 
I  have  described. 

Now,  Sir,  what  will  the  adversary  say  to  both  these  acts? 
If  the  principle  of  the  declaratory-act  was  not  good,  the 
principle  we  are  contending  for  this  day  is  monstrous.  If  the 
principle  of  the  repeal  was  not  good,  why  are  we  not  at  war 
for  a  real,  substantial,  effective  revenue  ?  If  both  were  bad  ; 
why  has  this  ministry  incurred  all  the  inconveniencies  of  both 
and  of  all  schemes  ?  Why  have  they  enacted,  repealed,  en- 
forced, yielded,  and  now  attempt  to  enforce  again  ? 

Sir,  I  think  I  may  as  well  now,  as  at  any  other  time,  speak 
to  a  certain  matter  of  fact,  not  wholly  unrelated  to  the  ques- 
tion under  your  consideration.  We,  who  would  persuade  you 
to  revert  to  the  ancient  policy  of  this  kingdom,  labour  under 
the  effect  of  this  short  current  phrase,  which  the  court  lead- 
ers have  given  out  to  all  their  corps,  in  order  to  take  away 
the  credit  of  those  who  would  prevent  you  froin  that  fran- 
tick  war  you  are  going  to  wage  upon  your  colonies.  Their 
cant  is  this  ;  "  All  the  disturbances  in  America  have  been 
created  by  the  repeal  of  the  stamp-act."  I  suppress  for  a 
moment  my  indignation  at  the  falsehood,  baseness,  and  ab- 
surdity of  this  most  audacious  assertion.  Instead  of  remark- 
ing on  the  motives  and  character  of  those  who  have  issued 
it  for  circulation,  I  will  clearly  lay  before  you  the  state  of 
America,  antecedently  to  that  repeal  ;  after  the  repeal ;  and 
since  the  renewal  of  the  schemes  of  American  taxation. 

It  is  said,  that  the  disturbances,  if  there  were  any,  before 
the  repeal,  were  slight ;  and  without  difficulty  or  inconven- 
ience might  have  been  suppressed.  For  an  answer  to  this  as- 
sertion I  will  send  you  to  the  great  author  and  patron  of  the 
stamp-act,  who  certainly  meaning  well  to  the  authority  of 
this  country,  and  fully  apprized  of  the  state  of  that,  made, 
before  a  repeal  was  so  much  as  agitated  in  this  house,  the 
motion  which  is  on  your  journals  \  and  which,  to  save  the 
clerk  the  trouble  of  turning  to  it,  I  will  now  read  to  vou. 
It  was  for  an  amendment  to  the  address  of  the  1 7th  of  De- 
cember, 1765  : 

"  To  express  our  just  resentment  and  bidigiiation  at  the  out- 
rageous tumults  and  insurrections  which  have  been  excited  and 


4.72  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

carried  on  in  North  America  ,-  and  at  the  resistance  given  by  open 
and  rebellious  force  to  the  execution  of  the  laws  in  that  part  of 
his  majesty's  dominions.  And  to  assure  his  majesty.^  that  his 
faithful  commons^  animated  ivith  the  nvarmest  duty  and  attach- 
ment to  his  royal  person  and  govertimenty  njuill  firmly  and  effectu- 
ally support  his  majesty  in  all  such  measures  as  shall  be  necessary 
for  preserving  and  supporting  the  legal  dependence  of  the  colonies 
on  the  mother  country^  &c.  &c." 

Here  was  certainly  a  disturbance  preceding  the  repeal  j 
such  a  disturbance  as  Mr.  Grenville  thought  necessary  to 
qualify  by  the  name  of  an  insurrection^  and  the  epithet  of  a 
rebellious  force  :  terms  much  stronger  than  any,  by  which, 
those  who  then  supported  his  motion,  have  ever  since  thought 
proper  to  distinguish  the  subsequent  disturbances  in  Ameri- 
ca. They  were  disturbances  which  seemed  to  him  and  his 
friends  to  justify  as  strong  a  promise  of  support,  as  hath  been 
usual  to  give  in  the  beginning  of  a  war  with  the  most  power- 
ful and  declared  enemies.  When  the  accounts  of  the  Amer- 
ican governours  came  before  the  house,  they  appeared  stronger 
even  than  the  warmth  of  publick  imagination  had  painted 
them  •,  so  much  stronger,  that  the  papers  on  your  table  bear 
me  out  in  saying,  that  all  the  late  disturbances,  which  have 
been  at  one  time  the  minister's  motives  for  the  repeal  of 
five  out  of  six  of  the  new  court  taxes,  and  are  now  his  pre- 
tences for  refusing  to  repeal  that  sixth,  did  not  amount — why 
do  I  compare  them  ?  no,  not  to  a  tenth  part  of  the  tumults 
and  violence  which  prevailed  long  before  the  repeal  of  that  act. 

Ministry  cannot  refuse  the  authority  of  the  commander  in 
chief  general  Gage,  who,  in  his  letter  of  the  4th  of  Novem- 
ber, from  New  York,  thus  represents  the  state  of  things  : 

*<  //  is  difficult  to  say i  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  ivho  has 
not  been  accessary  to  this  insurrection,  either  by  writing  or  mutu- 
al agreements  to  oppose  the  act,  by  ivhat  they  are  pleased  to  term 
all  legal  opposition  to  it.  Nothing  effectual  has  been  proposed,  either 
to  prevent  or  quell  the  tumult.  The  rest  of  the  provinces  are 
in  the  same  situation  as  to  a  positive  refusal  to  take  the  stamps  ; 
and  threatening  those  who  shall  take  them,  to  plunder  and  mur- 
der them  ;  and  this  affair  stands  in  all  the  provinces,  that  unless 
the  act,  from  its  own  nature,  enforce  itself,  nothing  but  a  very 
considerable  military  force  can  do  it." 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  473 

It  Is  remarkable,  Sir,  that  the  persons  who  formerly  trum- 
peted forth  the  most  loudly,  the  violent  resolutions  of  assem- 
blies ;  the  universal  insurrections  ;  the  seizing  and  burning 
the  stamped  papers  ;  the  forcing  stamp  officers  to  resign  their 
commissions  under  the  gallows  ;  the  rifling  and  pulling  down 
of  the  houses  of  magistrates  j  and  the  expulsion  from  their 
country  of  all  who  dared  to  write  or  speak  a  single  word  in 
defence  of  the  powers  of  parliament  ;  these  very  trum- 
peters are  now  the  men  that  represent  the  whole  as  a  mere 
trifle  ;  and  choose  to  date  all  the  disturbances  from  the  re- 
peal of  the  stamp-act,  which  put  an  end  to  th«m.  Hear 
your  officers  abroad,  and  let  them  refute  this  shameless  false- 
hood, who,  in  all  their  correspondence,  state  the  disturbances 
as  owing  to  their  true  causes,  the  discontent  of  the  people, 
from  the  taxes.  You  have  this  evidence  in  your  own  archives 
— and  it  will  give  you  compleat  satisfaction  ;  if  you  are  not  so 
far  lost  to  all  parliamentary  ideas  of  information,  as  rather  to 
credit  the  lie  of  the  day,  than  the  records  of  your  own  house. 

Sir,  this  vermin  of  court  reporters,  when  they  are  forced 
into  day  upon  one  point,  are  sure  to  burrow  in  another  ;  but 
they  shall  have  no  refuge  :  I  will  make  them  bolt  out  of  all 
their  holes.  Conscious  that  they  must  be  baffled,  when  they 
attribute  a  precedent  disturbance  to  a  subsequent  measure, 
they  take  other  ground,  almost  as  absurd,  but  very  common 
in  modern  practice,  and  very  wicked  ;  which  is,  to  attribute 
the  ill  effect  of  ill-judged  conduct  to  the  arguments  which 
had  been  used  to  dissuade  us  from  it.  They  say,  that  the 
opposition  made  in  parliament  to  the  stamp-act  at  the  time  of 
its  passing,  encouraged  the  Americans  to  their  resistance. 
This  has  even  formally  appeared  in  print  in  a  regular  volume, 
from  an  advocate  of  that  faction,  a  Dr.  Tucker.  This  Dr. 
Tucker  is  already  a  dean,  and  his  earnest  labours  in  this  vine- 
yard will,  I  suppose,  raise  him  to  a  bishoprick.  But  this  as- 
sertion too,  just  like  the  rest,  is  false.  In  all  the  papers  which 
have  loaded  your  table  ;  in  all  the  vast  crowd  of  verbal  wit- 
nesses that  appeared  at  your  bar,  witnesses  which  were  indis- 
criminately produced  from  both  sides  of  the  house  ;  not  the 
least  hint  of  such  a  cause  of  disturbance  has  ever  appeared. 
As  to  the  fact  of   a  strenuous  opposition  to  the  stamp-act,  I 

Vol.  I.  O  o  o 


47 i  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

sat  as  a  stranger  in  your  gallery  when  the  act  was  under  con- 
sideration. Far  from  any  thing  inflammatory,  I  never  heard 
a  more  languid  debate  in  this  house.  No  more  than  two  or 
three  gentlemen,  as  I  remember,  spoke  against  the  act,  and 
that  with  great  reserve  and  remarkable  temper.  There  was 
but  one  division  in  the  whole  progress  of  the  bill  ;  and  the 
minority  did  not  reach  to  more  than  39  or  40.  In  the  house 
of  lords  I  do  not  recollect  that  there  was  any  debate  or  divi- 
sion at  all.  I  am  sure  there  was  no  protest.  In  fact,  the  af- 
fair passed  with  so  very,  very  little  noise,  that  in  town  they 
scarcely  knew  the  nature  of  what  you  were  doing.  The  op- 
position to  the  bill  in  England  never  could  have  done  this 
mischief,  because  there  scarcely  ever  was  less  of  opposition  to 
a  bill  of  consequence. 

Sir,  the  agents  and  distributors  of  falsehoods  have,  with 
their  usual  industry,  circulated  another  lie  of  the  same  nature 
with  the  former.  It  is  this,  that  the  disturbances  arose  from 
the  account  which  had  been  received  in  America  of  the  change 
in  the  ministry.  No  longer  awed,  it  seems,  with  the  spirit  of 
the  former  rulers,  they  thought  themselves  a  match  for  what 
our  calumniators  choose  to  qualify  by  the  name  of  so  feeble 
a  ministry  as  succeeded.  Feeble  in  one  sense  these  men  cer- 
tainly may  be  called  ;  for  with  all  their  efforts,  and  they  have 
made  many,  they  have  not  been  able  to  resist  the  distemper- 
ed vigour,  and  insane  alacrity  with  which  you  are  rushing  to 
your  ruin.  But  it  does  so  happen,  that  the  falsity  of  this  cir- 
culation is  (like  the  rest)  demonstrated  by  indisputable  dates 
and  records. 

So  little  was  the  change  known  in  America,  that  the  letters 
of  your  governours,  giving  an  account  of  these  disturbances 
long  after  they  had  arrived  at  their  highest  pitch,  were  all 
directed  to  the  old  ministry  y  and  particularly  to  the  earl  of  Hal" 
ifaxy  the  secretary  of  state  corresponding  with  the  colonies, 
without  once  in  the  smallest  degree  intimating  the  slightest 
suspicion  of  any  ministerial  revolution  whatsoever.  The 
ministry  was  not  changed  in  England  until  the  10th  day  of 
July  1765.  On  the  14th  of  the  preceding  June,  governour 
Fauquier  from  Virginia  writes  thus  •,  and  writes  thus  to  the 
«arl  of  Halifax  :    "  Government  is  set  at  defiance,  not  having 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  475 

Strength  enough  in  her  hands  to  enforce  obedience  to  the  laws  of  the 
community.  The  private  distress ^  ivhich  every  man  feels ^  increas- 
es the  general  dissatisfaction  at  the  duties  laid  by  the  stamp-act, 
•which  breaks  out.^  and  shews  itself  upon  every  trifling  occasion.^'' 
The  general  dissatisfaction  had  produced  some  time  before, 
that  is,  on  the  29th  of  May,  several  strong  publick  resolves 
against  the  stamp-act ;  and  those  resolves  are  assigned  by 
governour  Bernard,  as  the  cause  of  the  insurrections  in  Massa- 
chuseit's  Bay,  in  his  letter  of  the  15th  of  August,  still  address- 
ed to  the  Earl  of  Halifax  ;  and  he  continued  to  address  such 
accounts  to  that  minister  quite  to  the  7th  of  September  of  the 
same  year.  Similar  accounts,  and  of  as  late  a  date,  were  sent 
from  other  governours,  and  all  directed  to  Lord  Halifax.  Not 
one  of  these  letters  indicates  the  slightest  idea  of  a  change, 
either  known,  or  even  apprehended. 

Thus  are  blown  away  the  insect  race  of  courtly  falsehoods  ! 
thus  perish  the  miserable  inventions  of  the  wretched  runners 
for  a  wretched  cause,  which  they  have  fly-blown  into  every 
weak  and  rotten  part  of  the  country,  in  vain  hopes  that  when 
their  maggots  had  taken  wing,  their  importunate  buzzing 
might  sound  something  like  the  publick  voice  ! 

Sir,  I  have  troubled  you  sufficiently  with  the  state  of  A- 
merica  before  the  repeal.  Now  I  turn  to  the  honourable 
gentleman  who  so  stoutly  challenges  us,  to  tell,  whether,  af- 
ter the  repeal,  the  provinces  were  quiet  ?  This  is  coming- 
home  to  the  point.  Here  I  meet  him  directly  ;  and  answer 
most  readily.  They  were  quiet.  And  I,  in  my  turn,  challenge 
him  to  prove  when,  and  where,  and  by  whom,  and  in  what 
numbers,  and  with  what  violence,  the  other  laws  of  trade,  as 
gentlemen  assert,  were  violated  in  consequence  of  your  conces- 
sion ?  or  that  even  your  other  revenue  laws  were  attacked  ? 
But  I  quit  the  vantage  ground  on  which  I  stand,  and  where 
I  might  leave  the  burthen  of  the  proof  upon  him  :  I  walk 
down  upon  the  open  plain,  and  undertake  to  shew,  that  they 
were  not  only  quiet,  but  shewed  many  unequivocal  marks  of 
acknowledgment  and  gratitude.  And  to  give  him  every  ad- 
vantage, I  select  the  obnoxious  colony  of  Massachusett's  Bay, 
which  at  this  time  (but  without  hearing  her)  is  so  heavily  a 
culprit  before  parliament — I   will  select  their  proceedings 


^76  ^^-  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

even  under  circumstances  of  no  small  irritation.  For,  a  little 
imprudently,  I  must  say,  Governour  Bernard  mixed  in  the 
administration  of  the  lenitive  of  the  repeal  no  small  acrimo- 
ny arising  from  matters  of  a  separate  nature.  Yet  see,  Sir, 
the  effect  of  that  lenitive,  though  mixed  with  these  bitter 
ingredients ;  and  how  this  rugged  people  can  express  them-, 
selves  on  a  measure  of  concession. 

*<  ]f  it  is  not  in  our  ponver"  (say  they  in  their  address  to 
Governour  Bernard)  "  in  so  full  a  manner  as  ivill  be  expectedy 
to  shew  our  respectful  gratitude  to  the  mother  country,  or  to  make 
a  dutiful  and  affectionate  return  to  the  indulgence  of  the  king  and 
parliament  y  it  shall  be  no  fault  of  ours  ;  for  this  lue  intend y  and 
hope  ive  shall  be  able  fully  to  effect ^ 

Would  to  God  that  this  temper  had  been  cultivated,  man- 
aged, and  set  in  action  !  other  effects  than  those  which  we 
have  since  felt  would  liave  resulted  from  it.  On  the  requi- 
sition for  compensation  to  those  who  had  suffered  from  the 
violence  of  the  populace,  in  the  same  address  they  say, 
*•  The  recommendation  enjoined  by  Mr.  Secretary  Coniuafs  letter, 
and  in  consequence  thereof  made  to  us,  ive  nvill  embrace  the  first 
convenient  opportunity  to  consider  and  act  upon"  They  did  con- 
sider ;  they  did  act  upon  it.  They  obeyed  the  requisition. 
I  know  the  mode  has  been  chicaned  upon  ;  but  it  was  sub- 
stantially obeyed  ;  and  much  better  obeyed,  than  I  fear  the 
parliamentary  requisition  of  this  session  will  be,  though  en- 
forced by  all  your  rigour,  and  backed  with  all  your  power. 
In  a  word,  the  damages  of  popular  fury  were  compensated 
by  legislative  gravity.  Almost  every  other  part  of  America 
in  various  ways  demonstrated  their  gratitude.  I  am  bold  to 
say,  that  so  sudden  a  calm  recovered  after  so  violent  a  storm 
is  without  parallel  in  history.  To  say  that  no  other  distur- 
bance should  happen  from  any  other  cause,  is  folly.  But  as 
far  as  appearances  went,  by  the  judicious  sacrifice  of  one  law, 
you  procured  an  acquiescence  in  all  that  remained.  After 
this  experience,  nobody  shall  persuade  me,  Avhen  a  whole 
people  are  concerned,  that  acts  of  lenity  are  not  means  of 
conciliation. 

I  hope  the  honourable  gentleman  has  received  a  fair  and 
full  answer  to  his  question. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  477 

I  have  done  with  the  third  period  of  your  policy  ;  that  of 
your  repeal  ;  and  the  return  of  your  ancient  system,  and  your 
ancient  tranquiUity  and  concord.  Sir,  this  period  was  not  as 
long  as  it  was  happy.  Another  scene  was  opened,  and  oth- 
er actors  appeared  on  the  stage.  The  state,  in  the  condi- 
tion I  have  described  it,  was  deUvered  into  the  hands  of  Lord 
Chatham — a  great  and  celebrated  name  ;  a  name  that  keeps 
the  name  of  this  country  respectable  in  every  other  on  the 
globe.     It  may  be  truly  called, 

Clarum  et  venerabile  nomen 
GentibuSj  et  muliitm  nostrce  quod proderat  urbi. 

Sir,  the  venerable  age  of  this  great  man,  his  merited  rank, 
his  superiour  eloquence,  his  splendid  qualities,  his  eminent 
services,  the  vast  space  he  fills  in  the  eye  of  mankind  ;  and, 
more  than  all  the  rest,  his  fall  from  power,  which,  like  death, 
canonizes  and  sanctifies  a  great  character,  will  not  suffer  me 
to  censure  any  part  of  his  conduct.  I  am  afraid  to  flatter 
him  ;  I  am  sure  I  am  not  disposed  to  blame  him.  Let  those 
who  have  betrayed  him  by  their  adulation,  insult  him  with 
their  malevolence.  But  what  I  do  not  presume  to  censure,  I 
may  have  leave  to  lament.  For  a  wise  man,  he  seemed  to 
me  at  that  time,  to  be  governed  too  much  by  general  max- 
ims. I  speak  with  the  freedom  of  history,  and  I  hope  with- 
out oflfence.  One  or  two  of  these  maxims,  flowing  from  an 
opinion  not  the  most  indulgent  to  our  unhappy  species,  and 
surely  a  little  too  general,  led  him  into  measures  that  were 
greatly  mischievous  to  himself ;  and  for  that  reason,  among 
others,  perhaps  fatal  to  his  country  •,  measures,  the  effects 
of  which,  I  am  afraid,  are  for  ever  incurable.  He  made  an 
administration,  so  checkered  and  speckled  ;  he  put  together 
a  piece  of  joinery,  so  crossly  indented  and  whimsically  dove- 
tailed ;  a  cabinet  so  variously  inlaid  ;  such  a  piece  of  diver- 
sified Mosaick  j  such  a  tesselated  pavement  without  cement ; 
here  a  bit  of  black  stone,  and  there  a  bit  of  white  ;  patriots 
and  courtiers,  king's  friends  and  republicans  ;  whigs  and 
tories  ;  treacherous  friends  and  open  enemies  :  that  it  was 
indeed  a  very  curious  show  ;  but  utterly  unsafe  to  touch,  and 


478  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

unsure  to  stand  on.  The  colleagues  whom  he  had  assorted 
at  the  same  boards,  stared  at  each  otlier,  and  were  obligee! 
to  ask,  «  Sir,  your  name  ? — Sir,  you  have  the  advantage  of 
me — Mr.  Such-a-one — I  beg  a  thousand  pardons — "  I  ven- 
ture to  say,  it  did  so  happen,  that  persons  had  a  single  office 
divided  between  them,  who  had  never  spoke  to  each  other 
in  their  lives  •,  until  they  found  themselves,  they  knew  not 
how,  pigging  together,  heads  and  points,  in  the  same 
truckle-bed.* 

Sir,  in  consequence  of  this  arrangement,  having  put  so 
much  the  larger  part  of  his  enemies  and  opposers  into  pow- 
er, the  confusion  was  such,  that  his  own  principles  could  not 
possibly  have  any  effect  or  influence  in  the  conduct  of  affairs. 
If  ever  he  fell  into  a  fit  of  the  gout,  or  if  any  other  cause 
■withdrew  him  from  publick  cares,  principles  directly  the  con- 
trary were  sure  to  predominate.  When  he  had  executed  his 
plan,  he  had  not  an  inch  of  ground  to  stand  upon.  "When 
he  had  accomplished  his  scheme  of  administration,  he  was 
no  longer  a  minister. 

When  his  face  was  hid  but  for  a  moment,  his  whole  sys- 
tem was  on  a  wide  sea,  without  chart  or  compass.  The  gen- 
tlemen, his  particular  friends,  who,  with  the  names  of  vari- 
ous departments  of  ministry,  were  admitted,  to  seem,  as  if 
they  acted  a  part  under  him,  with  a  modesty  that  becomes 
all  men,  and  with  a  confidence  in  him,  which  was  justified 
even  in  its  extravagance  by  his  superiour  abilities,  had  never, 
in  any  instance,  presumed  upon  any  opinion  of  their  own. 
Deprived  of  his  guiding  influence,  they  were  whirled  about, 
the  sport  of  every  gust,  and  easily  driven  into  any  port  ; 
and  as  those  who  joined  with  them  in  manning  the  vessel 
were  the  most  directly  opposite  to  his  opinions,  measures, 
and  character,  and  far  the  most  artful  and  most  powerful  of 
the  set,  they  easily  prevailed,  so  as  to  seize  upon  the  vacant, 
unoccupied,  and  derelict  minds  of  his  friends  j  and  instant- 
ly they  turned  the  vessel  wholly  out  of  the  course  of  his 
policy.     As  if  it  were  to  insult  as  well  as  to  betray  him,  even 

•  Supposed  to  allude  to  the  Right  Honourable  Lord  North,  and  George 
Cooke,  Esq.  who  were  made  joint  paymasters  in  the  summer  of  1 766,  on 
the  removal  of  the  Rockingham  administration. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  479 

long  before  the  close  of  the  first  session  of  his  administra- 
tion, when  every  thing  was  publickly  transacted,  and  with 
great  parade,  in  his  name,  they  made  an  act,  declaring  it 
highly  just  and  expedient  to  raise  a  revenue  in  America. 
For  even  then,  Sir,  even  before  this  splendid  orb  was  en- 
tirely set,  and  while  the  western  horizon  was  in  a  blaze  with 
his  descending  glory,  on  the  opposite  quarter  of  the  heav- 
ens arose  another  luminary,  and,  for  his  hour,  became  lord 
of  the  ascendant. 

This  hght  too  is  passed  and  set  for  ever.  You  understand, 
to  be  sure,  that  I  speak  of  Charles  Townshend,  officially 
the  re-producer  of  this  fatal  scheme  ;  whom  I  cannot  even 
now  remember  without  some  degree  of  sensibility.  In  truth, 
Sir,  he  was  the  delight  and  ornament  of  this  house,  and  the 
charm  of  every  private  society  which  he  honoured  with  his 
presence.  Perhaps  there  never  arose  in  this  country,  nor  in 
any  country,  a  man  of  a  more  pointed  and  finished  wit  ; 
and  (where  his  passions  were  not  concerned)  of  a  more  re- 
fined, exquisite,  and  penetrating  judgment.  If  he  had 
not  so  great  a  stock,  as  some  have  had  who  flourished  for- 
merly, of  knowledge  long  treasured  up,  he  knew  better  by 
far,  than  any  man  I  ever  was  acquainted  with,  how  to  bring 
together  within  a  short  time,  all  that  was  necessary  to  estab- 
lish, to  illustrate,  and  to  decorate  that  side  of  the  question 
he  supported,  fie  stated  his  matter  skilfully  and  powerful- 
ly. He  particularly  excelled  in  a  most  luminous  explana- 
tion, and  display  of  his  subject.  His  stile  of  argument  was 
neither  trite  and  vulgar,  nor  subtle  and  abstruse.  He  hit 
the  house  just  between  wind  and  water. — And  not  being 
troubled  with  too  anxious  a  zeal  for  any  matter  in  question, 
he  was  never  more  tedious,  or  more  earnest,  than  the  pre- 
conceived opinions,  and  present  temper  of  his  hearei"s  re- 
quired J  to  whom  he  was  always  in  perfect  unison.  He  con- 
formed exactly  to  the  temper  of  the  house  j  and  he  seemed 
to  guide,  because  he  was  always  sure  to  follow  it. 

I  beg  pardon.  Sir,  if  when  I  speak  of  this  and  of  other 
great  men,  I  appear  to  digress  in  saying  something  of  their 
characters.  In  this  eventful  history  of  the  revolutions  of 
America,  the  characters  of  such  men  are  of  much  importance. 


4,80  ^^  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

Great  men  are  the  guide-posts  and  land-marks  in  the  state. 
The  credit  of  such  men  at  court,  or  in  the  nation,  is  the  sole 
cause  of  all  the  publick  measures.  It  would  be  an  invidious 
thing,  (most  foreign  I  trust  to  what  you  think  my  disposi- 
tion) to  remark  the  errours  into  which  the  authority  of  great 
names  has  brought  the  nation,  without  doing  justice  at  the 
same  time  to  the  great  qualities,  whence  that  authority  arose. 
The  subject  is  instructive  to  those  who  wish  to  form  them- 
selves on  whatever  of  excellence  has  gone  before  them. 
There  are  many  young  members  in  the  house  (such  of  late 
has  been  the  rapid  succession  of  publick  men)  who  never 
saw  that  prodigy  Charles  Townshend  ;  nor  of  course  know 
what  a  ferment  he  was  able  to  excite  in  every  thing  by  the 
violent  ebullition  of  his  mixed  virtues  and  failings.  For  fail- 
ings he  had  undoubtedly — many  of  us  remember  them  ;  we 
are  this  day  considering  the  effect  of  them.  But  he  had  no 
failings  which  were  not  owing  to  a  noble  cause  ;  to  an  ar- 
dent, generous,  perhaps  an  immoderate  passion  for  fame  j  a 
passion  which  is  the  instinct  of  all  great  souls.  He  worship- 
ped that  goddess  wheresoever  she  appeared  ;  but  he  paid  his 
particular  devotions  to  her  in  her  favourite  habitation,  in  her 
chosen  temple,  the  house  of  commons.  Besides  the  charac- 
ters of  the  individuals  that  compose  our  body,  it  is  impossi- 
ble, Mr.  Speaker,  not  to  observe,  that  this  house  has  a  collec- 
tive character  of  its  own.  That  character  too,  however  im- 
perfect, is  not  unamiable.  Like  all  great  publick  collections 
of  men,  you  possess  a  marked  love  of  virtue,  and  an  abhor- 
rence of  vice.  But  among  vices,  there  is  none,  which  the 
house  abhors  in  the  same  degree  with  obstinacy.  Obstinacy, 
Sir,  is  certainly  a  great  vice  ;  and  in  the  changeful  state  of 
political  affairs  it  is  frequently  the  cause  of  great  mischief. 
It  happens,  however, very  unfortunately,  that  almost  the  whole 
line  of  the  great  and  masculine  virtues,  constancy,  gravity, 
magnanimity,  fortitude,  fidelity,  and  firmness,  are  closely  al- 
lied to  this  disagreeable  quality,  of  which  you  have  so  just  an 
abhorrence  -,  and  in  their  excess,  all  these  virtues  very  easily 
fall  into  it.  He,  who  paid  such  a  punctilious  attention  to  all 
your  feelings,  certainly  took  care  not  to  shock  them  by  that 
vice  which  is  the  most  disgustful  to  you. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  481 

That  fear  of  displeasing  those  who  ought  most  to  be  pleas- 
ed, betrayed  him  sometimes  into  the  other  extreme.  He  had 
voted,  and  in  the  year  1765,  had  been  an  advocate  for  the 
stamp-act.  Things  and  the  disposition  of  men's  minds  were 
changed.  In  short,  the  stamp-act  began  to  be  no  favourite 
in  this  house.  He  therefore  attended  at  the  private  meet- 
ing, in  which  the  resolutions  moved  by  a  right  honourable 
gentleman  were  settled  ;  resolutions  leading  to  the  repeal. 
The  next  day  he  voted  for  that  repeal ;  and  he  would  have 
spoken  for  it  too,  if  an  illness,  (not  as  was  then  given  out  a 
political)  but  to  my  knowledge,  a  very  real  illness,  had  not 
prevented  it. 

The  very  next  session,  as  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth 
away,  the  repeal  began  to  be  in  as  bad  an  odour  in  this  house 
as  the  stamp-act  had  been  in  the  session  before.  To  con- 
form to  the  temper  which  began  to  prevail,  and  to  prevail 
mostly  amongst  those  most  in  power,  he  declared,  very  ear- 
ly in  the  winter,  that  a  revenue  must  be  had  out  of  America. 
Instantly  he  was  tied  down  to  his  engagements  by  some,  who 
had  no  objection  to  such  experiments,  when  made  at  the 
cost  of  persons  for  whom  they  had  no  particular  regard.  The 
whole  body  of  courtiers  drove  him  onward.  They  always 
talked  as  if  the  king  stood  in  a  sort  of  humiliated  state,  until 
something  of  the  kind  should  be  done. 

Here  this  extraordinary  man,  then  chancellor  of  the  ex- 
chequer, found  himself  in  great  straits.  To  please  univer- 
sally was  the  object  of  his  life  ;  but  to  tax  and  to  please,  no 
more  than  to  love  and  to  be  wise,  is  not  given  to  men. 
However  he  attempted  it.  To  render  the  tax  palatable  to 
the  partisans  of  American  revenue,  he  made  a  preamble 
stating  the  necessity  of  such  a  revenue  To  close  vi'ith  the 
American  distinction,  this  revenue  was  external  or  port-duty  j 
but  again,  to  soften  It  to  the  other  party,  it  was  a  duty  of 
supply.  To  gratify  the  colmistSy  It  was  laid  on  Briiish  manu- 
factures ;  to  satisfy  the  merchants  of  Britain,  the  duty  was 
trivial,  and  (except  that  on  tea,  which  touched  only  the  de- 
voted East  India  company)  on  none  of  the  grand  objects  of 
commerce.  To  counterwork  the  American  contraband,  the 
duty  on  tea  was  reduced  from  a  shilling  to  three-pence.  But 
Vol.  I.  P  p  p 


4,82  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

to  secure  the  favour  of  those  who  would  tax  America,  the 
scene  of  collection  was  changed,  and,  with  the  rest,  it  was 
levied  in  the  colonies.  What  need  I  say  more  ?  This  fine- 
spun scheme  had  the  usual  fate  of  all  exquisite  policy.  But 
the  original  plan  of  the  duties,  and  the  mode  of  executing 
that  plan,  both  arose  singly  and  solely  from  a  love  of  our  ap- 
plause. He  was  truly  the  child  of  the  house.  He  never 
thought,  did,  or  said  any  thing  but  with  a  view  to  you.  He 
every  day  adapted  himself  to  your  disposition  ;  and  adjusted 
himself  before  it  as  at  a  looking-glass. 

He  had   observed  (indeed  it   could  not  escape  him)  that 
several   persons,  infinitely  his  inferiours  in  all  respects,  had 
formerly  rendered  themselves  considerable  in  this  house  by 
one   method   alone.     They   were   a  race  of  men  (I  hope  in 
God  the   species  is   extinct)  who,  when  they  rose  in  their 
place,   no   man  living  could  divine,  from  any   known  adher- 
ence to  parties,  to  opinions,  or  to  principles  ;  from  any  order 
or  system  in  their  politicks  ;    or  from  any  sequel  or  connec- 
tioti  in  their  ideas,  what  part  they  were  going  to  take  in  any 
debate.     It  is  astonishing  how  much  this  uncertainty,  espe- 
cially at  critical   times,  called  the  attention  of  all   parties  on 
such  men.     All   eyes  were  fixed   on  them,  all  ears  open  to 
hear  them  ;    each  party  gaped,   and  looked   alternately  for 
their  vote,  almost  to  the  end  of  their  speeches.     While   the 
house  hung  in  this  uncertainty,  now  the  hear-hims  rose  from 
this  side — now  they  rebellowed  from  the  other  j    and  that 
party  to  whom  they  fell  at  length  from  their  tremulous  and 
dancing  balance,  always  received   them  in   a  tempest  of  ap- 
plause.    The  fortune  of  such  men  was  a  temptation  too  great 
to  be  resisted  by  one,  to  whom,  a  single  whifFof  incense  with- 
held gave  much    greater  pain,  than  he  received  delight,  in 
the  clouds  of  it,  which  daily  rose  about  him  from  the  prodi- 
gal superstition  of  innumerable  admirers.     He  was  a  candi- 
date for  contradictory  honours  j  and    his  great   aim  was  to 
make  those  agree  in  admiration  of  him  who  never  agreed  in 
any  thing  else. 

Hence  arose  this  unfortunate  act,  the  subject  of  this  day's 
debate  ;  from  a  disposition  which,  after  making  an  American 
revenue  to  please  one,  repealed  it  to  please  others,  and  agaiii 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  483 

revived  it  in  hopes  of  pleasing  a  third,  and  of  catching  some- 
thing in  the  ideas  of  all. 

This  revenue  act  of  1767,  formed  the  fourth  period  of 
American  policy.  How  we  have  fared  since  then — what 
woeful  variety  of  schemes  have  been  adopted  j  what  enforc- 
ing, and  what  repealing  ;  what  bullying,  and  what  submitting  ; 
what  doing,  and  undoing  ;  what  straining,  and  what  relax- 
ing j  what  assemblies  dissolved  for  not  obeying,  and  called 
again  without  obedience  ;  what  troops  sent  out  to  quell  re- 
sistance, and  on  meeting  that  resistance,  recalled  ;  what 
ihiftings,  and  changes,  and  jumblings  of  all  kinds  of  men  at 
home,  which  left  no  possibility  of  order,  consistency,  vigour, 
or  even  so  much  as  a  decent  unity  of  colour  in  any  one  pub- 
lick  measure. — It  is  a  tedious,  irksome  task.  My  duty  may 
call  me  to  open  it  out  some  other  time*  ;  on  a  former 
occasion  I  tried  your  temper  on  a  part  of  it  ;  for  the  present 
I  shall  forbear. 

After  all  these  changes  and  agitations,  your  immediate 
situation  upon  the  question  on  your  paper  is  at  length  brought 
to  this.  You  have  an  act  of  parliament,  stating,  that  "  it  is 
expedient  to  raise  a  revenue  in  America."  By  a  partial  repeal 
you  annihilated  the  greatest  part  of  that  revenue,  which  this 
preamble  declares  to  be  so  expedient.  You  have  substituted 
no  other  in  the  place  of  it.  A  secretary  of  state  has  disclaim- 
ed, in  the  king's  name,  all  thoughts  of  such  a  substitution  in 
future.  The  principle  of  this  disclaimer  goes  to  what  has 
been  left,  as  well  as  what  has  been  repealed.  The  tax  which 
lingers  after  its  companions,  (under  a  preamble  declaring  an 
American  revenue  expedient,  and  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
supporting  the  theory  of  that  preamble)  militates  with  the 
assurance  authentically  conveyed  to  the  colonies  ;  and  is  an 
exhaustless  source  of  jealousy  and  animosity.  On  this  state, 
which  I  take  to  be  a  fair  one  j  not  being  able  to  discern  any 
grounds  of  honour,  advantage,  peace,  or  power,  for  adhering, 
either  to  the  act  or^  to  the  preamble,  I  shall  vote  for  the 
question  which  leads  to  the  repeal  of  both. 

If  you  do  not  fall  in  with  this  motion,  then  secure  some- 
thing to  fight  for,  consistent  in  theory  and  valuable  in  practice. 

*  Resolutions  in  May  1770- 


484  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

If  you  must  employ  your  strength,  employ  it  to  uphold  you 
in  some  nonouraoie  right,  or  some  profitable  wrong.  If 
you  are  apprehensive  tha^  the  concession  recommended  to 
you,  thougn  proper,  should  be  a  means  of  drawing  on  you 
further  but  unieaonable  claims, — why  then  employ  your 
force  in  support mg  that  reasonable  concession  against  those 
umeasonable  demands.  You  will  employ  it  with  more 
grace  ;  with  better  effect  \  and  with  great  probable  concur- 
rence of  all  the  quiet  and  rational  people  in  the  provinces  ; 
who  are  now  uaiced  with,  and  hurried  away  bv,  the  violent  ; 
hav'ing  indeed  different  dispositions,  but  a  common  interest. 
If  you  apprehend  that  on  a  concession  you  shall  be  pushed 
by  metaphysical  process  to  the  extreme  lines,  and  argued  out 
of  vour  whole  authority,  mv  advice  is  this  ;  when  vou  have 
recovered  your  old,  your  strong,  your  tenable  position,  then 
face  about — stop  short — do  nothing  more — reason  not  at  all 
— oppose  the  ancient  policy  and  practice  of  the  empire,  as  a 
rasnpart  against  the  speculations  of  innovators  on  both  sides 
of  tie  question  ;  and  you  will  stand  on  great,  manly,  and 
sure  ground.  On  this  solid  basis  fix  your  machines,  and 
thev  will  draw  worlds  towards  you. 

Your  ministers,  in  their  own  and  his  majesty's  name,  have 
already  adopted  the  American  distinction  of  internal  and 
external  duties.  It  is  a  distinction,  whatever  merit  it  may 
have,  that  was  originally  moved  by  the  Americans  them- 
selves ;  and  I  think  they  will  acquiesce  in  it,  if  they  are  not 
pushed  with  too  much  logick  and  too  little  sense,  in  all  the 
consequences.  That  is,  if  external  taxation  be  understood, 
as  they  and  you  understand  it,  when  you  please,  to  be  not  a 
distinction  of  geography,  but  of  policy  ;  that  it  is  a  power 
for  regulating  trade,  and  not  for  supporting  establishments. 
The  distinction,  which  is  as  nothing  with  regard  to  right,  is 
of  most  weighty  consideration  in  practice.  Recover  your 
old  ground,  and  your  old  tranquillity — try  it — I  am  persuad- 
ed the  Americans  will  compromise  with  you.  When  confi- 
dence is  once  restored,  the  odious  and  suspicious  summum 
juT  will  perish  of  course.  The  spirit  of  practicability,  of 
moderation,  and  mutual  convenience,  will  never  call  in  ge- 
ometrical exactness   as  the  arbitrator  of  an  amicable   settle- 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  485 

ment.  Consult  and  follow  your  experience.  Let  not  the 
Jon<^  story  with  which  I  have  exercised  your  patience,  prove 
fruitless  to  your  interests. 

For  my  part,  I  should  choose  (if  I  could  have  my  wish) 
that  the  proposition  of  the  *  honourable  gentleman  for  the 
repeal,  could  go  to  America  without  the  attendance  of  the  pe- 
nal bills.  Alone  I  could  almost  answer  for  its  success.  I  cannot 
be  certain  of  its  reception  in  the  bad  company  it  may  keep. 
In  such  heterogeneous  assortments,  the  most  innocent  per- 
son will  lose  the  effect  of  his  innocency.  Though  you  should 
send  out  this  angel  of  peace,  yet  you  are  sending  out  a  de- 
stroying angel  too  ;  and  what  would  be  the  effect  of  the  con- 
flict of  these  two  adverse  spirits,  or  which  would  predomi- 
nate in  the  end,  is  what  I  dare  not  say  :  whether  the  len- 
ient measures  would  cause  American  passion  to  subside,  or 
the  severe  would  increase  its  fury — All  this  is  in  the  hand  of 
Providence  ;  yet  now,  even  now,  I  should  confide  in  the 
prevailing  virtue,  and  efficacious  operation  of  lenity,  though 
working  in  darkness,  and  in  chaos,  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
unnatural  and  turbid  combination.  I  should  hope  it  might 
produe  order  and  beauty  in  the  end. 

Let  us.  Sir,  embrace  some  system  or  other  before  we  end 
this  session.  Do  you  mean  to  tax  America,  and  to  draw  a 
productive  revenue  from  thence  ?  If  you  do,  speak  out : 
name,  fix,  ascertain  this  revenue  ;  settle  its  quantity  •,  define 
its  objects  -,  provide  for  its  collection  ;  and  then  fight  when 
you  have  something  to  fight  for.  If  you  murder — rob  j  if 
you  kill,  take  possession  :  and  do  not  appear  in  the  charac- 
ter of  madmen,  as  well  as  assassins,  violent,  vindictive, 
bloody,  and  tyrannical,  without  an  object.  But  may  better 
counsels  guide  you  ! 

Again,  and  again,  revert  to  your  old  principles — seek 
peace  and  ensue  it — leave  America,  if  she  has  taxable  matter 
in  her,  to  tax  herself.  I  am  not  here  going  into  the  dis- 
tinctions of  rights,  nor  attempting  to  mark  their  boundaries. 
I  do  not  enter  into  these  metaphysical  distinctions  j  I  hate 
the  very  sound  of  them.  Leave  the  Americans  as  they  an- 
ciently stoodj  and  these  distinctions,  born  of  our  unhappy 

*  Mr.  Fuller 


iSG  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

contest,  will  die  along  with  It.  They  and  we,  and  their  and 
our  ancestors,  have  been  happy  under  that  system.  Let  the 
memory  of  all  actions,  in  contradiction  to  that  good  old 
mode,  on  both  sides,  be  extinguished  for  ever.  Be  content 
to  bind  America  by  laws  of  trade  ;  you  have  always  done  it. 
Let  this  be  your  reason  for  binding  their  irade.  Do  not 
burthen  them  by  taxes  ;  you  were  not  used  to  do  so  from 
the  beginning.  Let  this  be  your  reason  for  not  taxing. 
These  are  the  argument*  of  states  and  kingdoms.  Leave 
the  rest  to  the  schools  ;  for  there  only  they  may  be  discussed 
with  safety.  But  if,  intemperately,  unwisely,  fatally,  you 
sophisticate  and  poison  the  very  source  of  government,  by 
urging  subtle  deductions,  and  consequences  odious  to  those 
you  govern,  from  the  unlimited  and  illimitable  nature  of 
supreme  sovereignty,  you  will  teach  them  by  these  means  to 
call  that  sovereignty  itself  in  question.  When  you  drive 
him  hard,  the  boar  will  surely  turn  upon  the  hunters.  If 
that  sovereignty  and  their  freedom  cannot  be  reconciled, 
which  will  they  take  .''  They  will  cast  your  sovereignty  in 
your  face.  No  body  will  be  argued  into  slavery.  Sir,  let 
the  gentlemen  on  the  other  side  call  fonh  all  their  ability  j 
let  the  best  of  them  get  up,  and  tell  me,  what  one  character 
of  liberty  the  Americans  have,  and  what  one  brand  of  slave- 
ry, they  are  free  from,  if  they  are  bound  in  their  property 
and  industry,  by  all  the  restraints  you  can  Imagine  on  conj- 
merce,  and  at  the  same  time  are  made  pack-horses  of  every 
tax  you  choose  to  impose,  without  the  least  share  in  granting 
them.  When  they  bear  the  burthens  of  unlimited  monopo- 
ly, will  you  bring  them  to  bear  the  burthens  of  unlimited 
revenue  too  .•*  The  Englishman  in  America  will  feel  that  this 
is  slavery — that  it  is  legal  slavery,  will  be  no  compensation, 
either  to  his  feelings  or  his  understanding. 

A  noble  lord*,  who  spoke  some  time  ago,  is  full  of  the  fire 
of  ingenuous  youth  ;  and  when  he  has  modelled  the  ideas  of 
a  lively  Imagination  by  further  experience,  he  will  be  an  or- 
nament to  his  country  in  either  house.  He  has  said,  that  the 
Americans  are  our  children,  and  how  can  they  revolt  against 
their  parent  ?     He   says,   that  if  they  are  not  free  in  their 

*  Lord  Carmarthen. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  4-87 

present  state,  England  is  not  free  ;  because  Manchester,  and 
other  considerable  places,  are  not  represented.  So  then,  be- 
cause some  towns  in  England  are  not  represented,  America  is 
to  have  no  representative  at  all.  They  are  "  our  children  j" 
but  when  children  ask  for  bread,  we  are  not  to  give  a  stone. 
Is  it  because  the  natural  resistance  of  things,  and  the  various 
mutations  of  time,  hinders  our  government,  or  any  scheme 
of  government,  from  being  any  more  than  a  sort  of  approxi- 
mation to  the  right,  is  it  therefore  that  the  colonies  are  to  re- 
cede from  it  infinitely  ?  When  this  child  of  ours  wishes  to 
assimilate  to  its  parent,  and  to  reflect  with  a  true  filial  resem- 
blance the  beauteous  countenance  of  British  liberty  ;  are  we 
to  turn  to  them  the  shameful  parts  of  our  constitution  ?  are 
we  to  give  them  our  weakness  for  their  strength  ;  our  op- 
probrium for  their  glory  ;  and  the  slough  of  slavery,  which 
we  are  not  able  to  work  off,  to  serve  them  for  their  free- 
dom  .'' 

If  this  be  the  case,  ask  yourselves  this  question.  Will  they 
be  content  in  such  a  state  of  slavery  ?  If  not,  look  to  the 
consequences.  Reflect  how  you  are  to  govern  a  people,  who 
think  they  ought  to  be  free,  and  think  they  are  not.  Your 
scheme  yields  no  revenue  ;  it  yields  nothing  but  discontent, 
disorder,  disobedience  ;  and  such  is  the  state  of  America,  that 
after  wading  up  to  your  eyes  in  blood,  you  could  only  end 
just  where  you  begun  ;  that  is,  to  tax  where  no  revenue  is 
to  be  found,  to — my  voice  fails  me  ;  my  inclination  indeed 
carries  me  no  further — all  is  confusion  bevond  it. 

V/ell,  Sir,  I  have  recovered  a  little,  and  before  I  sit  down 
I  must  say  something  to  another  point  with  which  gentlemen 
urge  us.  What  is  to  become  of  the  declaratory  act  asserting 
the  entireness  of  British  legislative  authority,  if  we  abandon 
the  practice  of  taxation  .? 

For  my  part  I  look  upon  the  rights  stated  in  that  act,  ex- 
actly in  the  manner  in  which  I  viewed  them  on  its  very  first 
proposition,  and  which  I  have  often  taken  the  liberty,  with 
great  humility,  to  lay  before  you.  I  look,  I  say,  on  the  im- 
perial rights  of  Great  Britain,  and  the  privileges  which  the 
colonists  ought  to  enjoy  under  these  rights,  to  be  just  the 
most  reconciieable  things  in  the  world.     The  parliament  of 


488  MR.  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

Great  Britain  sits  at  the  head  of  her  extensive  empire  in  two 
capacities  :  one  as  the  local  legislature  of  this  island,  provid- 
ing for  all  things  at  home,   immediately,  and  by  no  other  in- 
strument than  the  executive  power. — The  other,  and  I  think 
her  nobler  capacity,  is  what  I  call  her  imperial  character  ;  in 
which,  as  from  the  throne  of  heaven,  she  superintends  all  the 
several  inferiour  legislatures,  and  guides,  and  controuls  them  all 
without  annihilating  any.     As  all  these  provincial  legislatures 
are  only  co-ordinate  to  each  other,  they  ought  all  to  be  sub- 
ordinate to  her ;  else  they  can  neither  preserve  mutual  peace, 
nor  hope  for  mutual  justice,  nor  effectually  afford  mutual  as- 
sistance.    It  is  necessary  to  coerce  the  negligent,  to  restrain 
the  violent,  and  to  aid  the  weak   and  deficient,  by  the  over- 
ruling plenitude  of  her  power.     She  is  never  to  intrude  into 
the  place  of  the  others,  whilst  they  are  equal  to  the  common 
ends  of  their  institution.     But  in  order  to  enable  parliament 
to  answer  all  these  ends  of  provident  and  beneficent  superin- 
tendence, her  powers   must  be  boundless.     The   gentlemen 
who    think  the   powers    of  parliament  limited,   may  please 
themselves  to  talk  of  requisitions.     But  suppose  the  requisi- 
tions are  not  obeyed   .'*      What  !    Shall  there  be  no   reserved 
power  in  the  empire,  to  supply  a  deficiency  which  may  weak- 
en, divide,  and  dissipate  the  whole  .''  We  are  engaged   n  war 
— the  secretary  of  state  calls  upon  the  colonies  to  contribute 
— some  would  do  it,  I   think    most  would  chearfuUy  furnish 
whatever  is  demanded — one  or  two,  suppose,  hang  back,  and, 
easing  themselves,  let  the  stress  of  the  draft  lie  on  the   oth- 
ers— surely  it  is   proper,  that   some  authority  might  legally 
say — "  Tax  yourselves  for  the  common  supply,  or  parliament 
will  do  it  for  you."     This  backwardness  was,    as  I  am  told, 
actually  the  case  of  Pennsylvania  for  some  short  time  towards 
the  beginning  of  the  last  war,  owing  to  some  internal  dissentions 
in  the  colony.     But,  whether  the  fact  were  so,  or  otherwise, 
the  case  is  equally  to  be  provided  for  by  a  competent  sover- 
eign power.     But  then  this  ought  to  be  no  ordinary  power  ; 
nor  ever  used  in  the  first   instance.     This  is  what  I  meant, 
when  I  have  said  at  various  times,  that  I  consider  the  power 
of  taxing  in  parliament  as  an  instrument  of  empire,  and  not 
as  a  means  of  supply. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  489 

Such,  Sir,  is  my  idea  of  the  constitution  of  the  British  em- 
pire, as  distinguished  from  the  constitution  of  Britain  ;  and 
on  these  grounds  I  think  subordination  and  Uberty  may  be 
sufficiently  reconciled  through  the  whole  ;  whether  to  serve 
a  refining  speculatist,  or  a  factious  demagogue,  I  know  not  ; 
but  enough  surely  for  the  ease  and  happiness  of  man. 

Sir,  whilst  we  held  this  happy  course,  we  drew  more  from 
the  colonies  than  all  the  impotent  violence  of  despotism  ever 
could  extort  from  them.  We  did  this  abundantly  in  the  last 
war.  It  has  never  been  once  denied — and  what  reason  have 
we  to  imagine  that  the  colonies  would  n^t  have  proceeded 
in  supplying  government  as  liberally,  if  you  had  not  stepped 
in  and  hindered  them  from  contributing,  by  interrupting  the 
channel  in  which  their  liberality  flowed  with  so  strong  a 
course  ;  by  attempting  to  take,  instead  of  being  satisfied  to 
receive  ?  Sir  William  Temple  says,  that  Holland  has  load- 
ed itself  with  ten  times  the  impositions  which  it  revolted  from 
Spain,  rather  than  submit  to.  He  says  true.  Tyranny  is  a 
poor  provider.  It  knows  neither  how  to  accumulate,  nor 
how  to  extract. 

I  charge  therefore  to  this  new  and  unfortunate  system  the 
loss  not  only  of  peace,  of  union,  and  of  commerce,  but  evert 
of  revenue,  which  its  friends  are  contending  for. — It  is  mor- 
ally certain,  that  we  have  lost  at  least  a  million  of  free  grants 
since  the  peace.  I  think  we  have  lost  a  great  deal  more  •, 
and  that  those  who  look  for  a  revenue  from  the  provinces, 
never  could  have  pursued,  even  in  that  light,  a  course  more 
directly  repugnant  to  their  purposes. 

Now,  Sir,  I  trust  I  have  shewn,  first  on  that  narrow  ground 
which  the  honourable  gentleman  measured,  that  you  are  like 
to  lose  nothing  by  complying  with  the  motion,  except  what 
you  have  lost  already.  I  have  shewn  afterwards,  that  in 
time  of  peace  you  flourished  in  commerce,  and  when  war 
required  it,  had  sufficient  aid  from  the  colonies,  while  you 
pursued  your  antient  policy  ;  that  you  threw  every  thing  into 
confusion  when  you  made  the  stamp-act  ;  and  that  you  re- 
stored every  thing  to  peace  and  order  when  you  repealed  it* 
I  have  shewn  that  the  revival  of  the  system  of  taxation  has 
produced  the  very  worst  effects  ;    and  that  the  partial  repeal 

Vol.  I.  Q  Q  q 


490  MR-  BURKE'S  SPEECH 

has  produced,  not  partial  good,  but  universal  evil.  Let 
these  considerations,  founded  on  facts,  not  one  of  which  can 
be  denied,  bring  us  back  to  our  reason  by  the  road  of  our 
experience. 

I  cannot,  as  I  have  said,  answer  for  mixed  measures  ;  but 
surely  this  mixture  of  lenity  would  give  the  whole  a  better 
chance  of  success.  When  you  once  regain  confidence,  the 
way  will  be  clear  before  you.  Then  you  may  enforce  the  act 
of  navigation  when  it  ought  to  be  enforced.  You  will  your- 
selves open  it  where  it  ought  still  further  to  be  opened.  Pro- 
ceed in  what  you  dt),  whatever  you  do,  from  policy,  and  not 
from  rancour.  Let  us  act  like  men,  let  us  act  like  states- 
men. Let  us  hold  some  sort  of  consistent  conduct. — It  is 
agreed  that  a  revenue  is  not  to  be  had  in  America.  If  we 
lose  the  profit,  let  us  get  rid  of  the  odium. 

On  this  business  of  America,  I  confess  I  am  serious,  even  to 
sadness.  I  have  had  but  one  opinion  concerning  it  since  I 
sat,  and  before  I  sat  in  parliament.  The  noble  lord*  will,  as 
usual,  probably,  attribute  the  part  taken  by  me  and  my  friends 
in  this  business,  to  a  desire  of  getting  his  places.  Let  him 
enjoy  this  happy  and  original  idea.  If  I  deprived  him  of  it, 
I  should  take  away  most  of  his  wit,  and  all  his  argument. 
But  I  had  rather  bear  the  brunt  of  all  his  wit ;  and  indeed  blows 
much  heavier,  than  stand  answerable  to  God  for  embracing  a 
system  that  tends  to  the  destruction  of  some  of  the  very  best 
and  fairest  of  his  works.  But  I  know  the  map  of  England,  as 
well  as  the  noble  lord,  or  as  any  other  person  ;  and  I  know 
that  the  way  I  take  is  not  the  road  to  preferment.  My  excel- 
lent and  honourable  friend  under  me  on  the  floorf ,  has  trod 
that  road  with  great  toil  for  upwards  of  twenty  years  to- 
gether. He  is  not  yet  arrived  at  the  noble  lord's  destina- 
tion. However,  the  tracks  of  my  worthy  friend  are  those 
I  have  ever  wished  to  follow  5  because  I  know  they  lead  to 
honour.  Long  may  we  tread  the  same  road  together ;  who- 
ever may  accompany  us,  or  whoever  may  laugh  at  us  on  our 
journey  !  I  honestly  and  solemnly  declare,  I  have  in  all  sea- 
sons adhered  to  the  system  of  1766,  for  no  other  reason,  than 

*  Lord  Nortli.  f  Mr.  Dowdeswell. 


ON  AMERICAN  TAXATION.  491 

that  I  think  It  laid  deep  in  your  truest  Interests — and  that, 
by  limiting  the  exercise,  it  fixes  on  the  firmest  foundations, 
a  real,  consistent,  well-grounded  authority  in  parliament. 
Until  you  come  back  to  that  system,  there  will  be  no  peace 
for  England.  • 


H 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  VOLUME. 


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